


In His Place

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Belts, Bondage, Changmin gonna snap, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Rings, Confinement, Dick slapping, Dom/sub, Enemas, Falling In Love, First Times, Forced Isolation, Forced Marriage, Gags, Hand Feeding, Handcuffs, Heterosexual Sex, Homophobia, Humiliation, Isolation, Kings & Queens, Kneeling, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Servant, Minor Character Death, One of My Favorites, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, Princes & Princesses, Punishment, Rules, Safewords, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Somnophilia, Spanking, Submission, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenage Rebellion, Watersports, Whipping, Yoochun teaches him how to cope, bleeding during sex, god I love this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Changmin is protected. The heir to the throne is always a target. He must be protected. Confined. Imprisoned. Until he is needed. He cannot handle it. He cannot survive like that. He is ready to do something drastic. And then Yoochun-nim shows him a way to relax, a way to unwind. A way to rebel.
Relationships: Park Yoochun/Shim Changmin
Kudos: 9





	1. Nothing New

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](http://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

This fic is not underage, but it does have an age gap. Changmin is 18, and Yoochun is 35.

**Warning: This fic contains master/sub relations, bondage, watersports, spanking, humiliation, and other such things**

Changmin counted the number of times in one minute that he fogged up the window with his breath. On his list of things to do everyday, the task rarely varied. Only on the day of his birth and the day of his coronation as heir did the number increase. It was the only outward sign of his anxiety on those two days.

The fading patch of fog gave him something to look at, concentrate on, outside of his rooms from a window that only allowed him to look out. A wall of black when looking from the other side. Without the patch of fog, he watched cars and people, moving about in ways that were forbidden for Changmin.

Even throwing a chair at the window did not provide Changmin with a way to escape. Unbreakable. So very much unlike his soul. His spirit.

His life.

His blessed birthright allowed him all the things that he was allowed to have within his five rooms: a bedroom, a library, a dining room, a bathroom, and a closet. Six rooms if he counted the small dressing room next to the closet, but really it was all part of the bedroom anyway, so maybe only four rooms. Four rooms made it harder to breathe. Six felt like a lie, so there were five rooms. All connected with only one door to the outside, a forbidden hallway. The door locked from the outside and required a keycard and voice activating software to open it.

After Changmin was born, his nursemaid had access to the rooms. When Changmin was too old for a nursemaid, his nanny had access to the rooms. When he was too old for a nanny, his tutor had the code. When he was too old (too caustic, too acrimonious, too intelligent) for a tutor, Yoochun-nim was given the code.

Yoochun-nim had been the only person Changmin had seen in almost eight years, which meant his father was still alive. Maybe even his mother. Freedom from the room depended on his father’s health. His father had to die eventually. Then Changmin would be king. Changmin would marry a girl whose entire purpose was to marry Changmin. She would give birth to a boy, the old fashioned way, or she would be replaced with someone else whose sole purpose was provide the next heir to the country.

Changmin tried to throw chairs out of the unbreakable windows frequently.

Weakness.

A soft beep echoed from the door. Changmin turned from the window, his count ruined. He learned not to count when his butler was in the room. For reasons he did not and could not accept, Yoochun-nim caused his breath to quicken. It skewed the results.

Tomorrow he would count again.

Yoochun-nim entered the rooms. A normal time? A different time? Changmin forgot how to measure.

Yoochun-nim wore black. Every day. The same suit. Either that or he had noticed the small notch Changmin cut into the back of the coat and had the imperfection added to all of his suits.  
Still, black suit, black shirt, black vest, black tie.

Changmin grew tired of black. But never to the point of showing irritation for Yoochun-nim’s work. He did not want another butler. Another manservant. Another slave. Changmin did not know Yoochun-nim’s actual title.

Maybe he was undead. A vampire. A wraith. A demon. He never seemed to age, the same pale skin, the same practically flawless face. And black hair. Long around his shoulders, but only because Changmin had wondered out loud what Yoochun-nim would look like with longer hair. He pulled it back most days, a few stubborn strands falling into his face. A few more months before all the hair was pulled back into a black ponytail holder.

Black. Boring.

As always, Yoochun-nim bowed when he entered the library. Yoochun-nim, without fail, went straight to whatever room Changmin occupied.

“How are you today, Young Master?”

Changmin snorted. “Call me by my name.”

Yoochun-nim’s mouth twitched. “As you wish, Young Master. Dinner is ready and served and waiting on you.”

At least the food in his prison was good. He tossed the book he had been reading to the bench and followed Yoochun-nim from the room. He ate in silence, not speaking to the man who did not need him to speak. His tea was filled, his plate replenished, without having to say a word.

_Training a new butler was going to be tedious._

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “Am I being replaced, Young Master?”

Changmin turned around quickly to look at him, stoic and perfect at his place against the wall. He flushed, embarrassed because he had spoken aloud. He had been doing that a lot lately.

“Of course not, Yoochun-nim. It was only an observation of your perfection and dedication.”

He almost smiled again, and Changmin turned back to his food, appetite gone. If Yoochun-nim was gone tomorrow ...

Changmin stabbed the meat with his fork. He did not have to say he was done eating. The plate suddenly left his sight.

“What else do you wish this evening?”

Was it evening? Was it day? Was the time and sun changed upon the whims of a king to confuse his son in his prison?

“A bath,” Changmin muttered.

Yoochun-nim bowed and left the dining room, leaving the dishes for later. Changmin sighed and stood up. The bath needed time to fill so he went first to his closet. He left his clothes on the floor. In the morning, they would be where they belonged. He stopped at his mirror, twisting this way and that to gauge the muscles on his body. They were firming, obviously with the diet and exercise routine that Yoochun-nim forced upon him.

It was the point of it all that danced just out of Changmin’s mental reach. Why be strong when you were not allowed to leave your room?

He slipped on a soft, luxurious robe. Something new. But still normal.

Stepping into the bathroom, Changmin froze. Surprised. Almost awed. The suit jacket hung upon a hook in the back of the door. Black shirt sleeves were rolled up to Yoochun-nim’s elbows. The black shirt and vest revealed wide shoulders, a small waist, strong arms.

Lust twisted through Changmin’s body.

“Leave,” Changmin snapped.

“But the--”

“Leave!”

Yoochun-nim looked at him for a moment and bowed. “As you wish, Young Master.” He walked by Changmin, and Changmin flinched and shut his eyes. He heard the suit jacket whisper through the air. The door opened.

“Yoochun-nim,” Changmin said and felt more than heard him pause. He did not want to sound childish, begging him to return. He did not want to have to ask to quell his own fears of Yoochun-nim being replaced. Instead he said, “Wear a ribbon in your hair tomorrow.”

Trite. Ridiculous. But something he wanted. So it would be done.

“As you wish, Young Master.”

The door shut.

Changmin sighed, tension leaving his body. Lust. A new thing. For Yoochun-nim. Not so new. Not so surprising. But just another reason for Yoochun-nim to leave. To be taken away. Lust for another male was punishable by death. So many things were punishable by death. It was a wonder there were citizens to call him a prince.

He dropped the robe where he stood and stepped into the water that was still a little too hot. Changmin did not care. He sank into it, head tilted back on the porcelain edge. Without the towel that normally sat there. He could live without a fucking towel.

“I can live without a fucking towel to prop my precious head upon.” The echo sounded like a whine.

Changmin dunked under the too-hot water and screamed until the pleasure turned to panic and he surfaced with a coughing fit. Almost drowning: a perfect cure for illegal lust.

\---

Changmin woke up before Yoochun-nim arrived. He had started learning to do so. Training himself to be up and dressed. And Yoochun-nim never changed the time he arrived to make sure he was there to wake Changmin and help him dress. Changmin was almost an adult, a confined-trapped-imprisoned adult, and he knew how to tie his own fucking shoes.

Anger. Bouts of random anger exploded from him. Never in front of Yoochun-nim. Though Yoochun-nim righted chairs that somehow ended up across the room, beneath the windows. He said nothing.

He arrived on time with coffee and breakfast. A ribbon in his hair.

Red. A red ribbon in his hair.

Changmin swallowed, eyes wide, staring at it while Yoochun-nim served him breakfast. He turned when Yoochun-nim went back to his post. He stared.

Yoochun-nim stared back.

Changmin felt the flush start at his neck and spread, up his face, down his chest. He turned away suddenly with a pained cry at the image of his fingers, touching the ribbon, touching his hair, touching his neck, just touching. Followed by a soft gasp of his name instead of his title.

And when fingers touched his shoulder, Changmin jerked away with a cry. But not far enough. The scent, the waft of pine and outdoors and ... freedom. Changmin lifted his arm and hid his eyes.

“Are you ill, Young Master?”

“Gravely,” Changmin managed to reply.

To Changmin’s further surprise, his butler (slave? servant?) laughed. A warm chuckle, just by his ear and Changmin whined, trying to move the entire chair out of the way. But he need not worry. Yoochun-nim knew him. And Yoochun-nim moved away. Toward the door of the main hallway.

“Stay,” Changmin said, panic bubbling. Yoochun-nim inside torturing him was better than Yoochun-nim leaving. Never coming back.

Yoochun-nim almost smiled and moved to the wall. The end of the ribbon fell over his shoulder. A shock of red on black. Blood.

And Changmin shut his eyes, feeling the wet on his eyelashes. He pushed his palms against them and screamed before toppling off the chair, unable to breathe, clinging to thin black fabric, red dripping from Yoochun-nim’s neck, falling against Changmin’s cheek.

\---

Changmin moaned, waking up slowly, twisting, in bed. Alone.

Always alone. Darkness. Even when he opened his eyes. Everything was so dark.

A noise filtered through the rushing in his head. He blinked, shifted, and stared. At Yoochun-nim, in a chair, watching him.

He turned away. The incessant tears finally fell and he let them drop to the pillow. Who cared if Yoochun-nim saw him cry?

Neither spoke. Yoochun-nim stood only to retrieve a cool bottle of water that Changmin only managed a few sips from before turning away. He stared at nothing. Thought of nothing but red against black, of soft fingers on his shoulder. He curled up, back to Yoochun-nim.

Time passed in the way light traveled across the bedroom.

Just before Changmin opened his mouth to say he was hungry, the bell chimed through the rooms. Yoochun-nim stood and bowed. “I ordered some soup for you. You need to eat something.”

Changmin almost demanded that Yoochun-nim stay, but no one was allowed in his rooms, and Yoochun-nim tasted all his food and waited about ten minutes before allowing Changmin to eat it. He did not want Yoochun-nim to die for him.

Changmin pondered dying. What would happen if he died? There were plenty of ways for him to do so within his rooms. Dying was an escape, wasn’t it?

Yoochun-nim returned with the soup and a cup of tea. Changmin did not wish to get out of bed and he sat up, only just realizing that he wore his robe. That was all. Which meant that Yoochun-nim had undressed him, seen him naked, and touched him.

Not like that, but just in general.

Changmin felt himself flush again and again jerked away from Yoochun-nim’s fingers.

Yoochun-nim frowned at him.

“I’m fine,” Changmin mumbled and pulled the robe closed.

Yoochun-nim settled the tray over his lap and moved around gathering pillows to give Changmin something to lean against. Changmin kept his eyes shut until he knew that Yoochun-nim sat back in his chair.

Changmin ate the soup.

Yoochun-nim took the bowl away.

Yoochun-nim came back.

Moments.

Minutes.

Seconds.

Changmin sat in a chair and stared out the window at the dying light. Changmin fell asleep in the chair. Yoochun-nim woke him up, maybe in the morning, possibly the afternoon, and Changmin stayed in bed.

Yoochun-nim did not follow the schedule. And for the first time in a long time, Changmin did not count the fog on the window. He smiled.

\---

Day four of this new thing, almost liberating thing, found Changmin lounging on his bed, only in his robe, skin wet from his long bath, hair still stuck to his scalp. He smelled of lavender bath salts and hot water. His fingers were wrinkled.

Yoochun-nim sat in his chair. The shirt under the vest was red. Changmin stared at it, at the two buttons peaking from the black vest. The ribbon stayed red.

Maybe ... maybe life did not have to be so confining within the confines of these rooms. Maybe ... but it was dangerous to think this way. Dangerous because of who may be listening. Losing Yoochun-nim.

Or keeping him.

Touching him.

Changmin shivered and did not turn away as the lust overtook his heart, mind, soul. He let it. In this new liberating thing, he let it fill him, felt the soft brush of his robe against his growing cock.

“Yoochun-nim,” Changmin whispered. “May I ask something of you?”

“You may ask anything of me, Young Master.”

Changmin turned only his head, met Yoochun-nim’s eyes, and held his breath. He reached for the sash of the robe, fingers shaking as he tugged on it, pulling it open. The air of the room felt cool on his skin still heated from the bath. He felt his nipples harden as they were exposed. And his cock filled as Yoochun-nim watched, not his eyes, but his hand.

“Touch me,” Changmin finally said, loopy with rebellion and need. The robe finally parted completely, each side dropping to the bed and Changmin shut his eyes. He trailed his fingers over his skin, each fingertip pulling more lust to the surface.

Yoochun-nim had not moved.

Changmin gripped his erection, stroking with just two fingers and his thumb, a quick movement to match his breathing.

“Touch you where, Young Master?” Yoochun-nim asked, voice deep.

Changmin gasped when the bed on each side of his legs dipped. His eyes flew open, staring at the image of Yoochun-nim kneeling astride him, knee to knee. His hand stopped its movements, and the flush of embarrassment traveled swiftly on his skin, but instead of fighting it, he let it flush his skin, quicken his breath, pulse clear fluid from the tip of his dick to his stomach.

“Touch you here?” Yoochun-nim asked and his fingertips danced up the bend of Changmin’s hips. He cried out, arching up, hands above his head. He heard Yoochun-nim chuckle, and then fingers wrapped around his erection and stroked and stole his breath for a moment before panting out of his lungs in tiny whimpers.

Yoochun-nim stroked him, quick and efficient, pulling pleasure through his skin so it felt like every inch of skin was being touched and every inch of skin was about to burst away from his body.

Death. From pleasure.

Better than throwing himself out of an eightieth floor window. But the rush felt the same, or did it? Is this what falling through the air felt like? He was not sure, but everything blew by him, everything twisted around him. He screamed, the echo stolen from the rushing wind, and then he shuddered, cock pulsing in Yoochun-nim’s hand, and he fell back to himself, landing hard and spraying his orgasm up and over his stomach and chest.

His gasps tapered to whimpers, the whimper to gulping breaths, to high-pitch sobs. Tears on his cheeks again, that this time were wiped away. By warm fingers.

Changmin opened his eyes. Yoochun’s face above him, shadowed and glowing in the evening light. He smelled of pine or woods. A spicy scent that always drove Changmin crazy when he was close. Too close.

Changmin blinked, slow and lazy, and smiled. Again.

Yoochun-nim smiled back. “Is that what you wished, Young Master?”

“No complaints,” he managed.

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “Good.” He pushed off the bed and stood. He lifted a hand and then licked it, and Changmin moaned, dick twitching as Yoochun-nim licked his come from his own fingers.

“If you wish,” Yoochun-nim said between two very obscene licks, “I can add this to your daily schedule, Young Master.”

Changmin moaned, flinging his arm over his face.

And Yoochun-nim laughed and left the room.

Changmin lay there, relaxing finally as the tension bled out of him. He jerked in surprise at the touch of a warm cloth on his skin. Yoochun-nim wiped up the come, even twisting the towel around the head of his cock, pulling a full shiver from Changmin. When Yoochun-nim finished, Changmin tugged at the arm of his jacket.

“Stay?”

Yoochun-nim almost smiled. “I cannot, even if you wish it, not that.”

“Why not?” Changmin demanded with a petulant whine.

Yoochun-nim shook his head. “It is not worth the risk, Young Master.”

Changmin huffed because he was right. Just because no one was allowed to come into his rooms did not mean there were not extenuating circumstances for someone to come into his room unannounced. Changmin probably would not be put to death because he was the prince. But Yoochun-nim ...

Changmin reached up and tugged at the ribbon. “Thank you.” _Not just for the handjob, but for the ribbon, for the red shirt, for the last four days away from the routine._ He did not need to say it out loud.

Yoochun-nim smiled. “You are most welcome, Young Master.”

\---

Daily handjobs.

Randomly scattered throughout the day. Some in the bedroom, in the library, in the tub, and one on the dining room table.

The routine was much more bearable. Changmin allowed Yoochun-nim to wake him, choose his outfits, and Yoochun-nim no longer asked what he wanted to eat or where he wanted his daily handjob. Changmin let him. He allowed his long fingers to button up his shirts and clasp his pants around his constant erection. He allowed Yoochun-nim to get on his knees to lace up his shoes.

The ribbon stayed red. The shirt changed colors: blue, green, back to white and then red again. Changmin looked forward to seeing the color. He looked forward to allowing Yoochun-nim to unfasten his pants, unbutton his shirt, be on his knees or over him or ... near him. Just near him. The handjob became secondary.

And one handjob was not enough. No where near enough.

Orange light permeated the thick smog of the city, pulsing through Changmin’s room in waves of bright, neon to dull, lifeless almost red. He sat at his desk, the book he had been reading forgotten. He thought instead of how much he could get away with.

He turned to face the room, face Yoochun-nim. It was black and shadowing for a moment, until he blinked to clear the light from his eyes. Only the lamp on his desk and the one near Yoochun-nim’s chair spread dim through the room.

“Yoochun-nim?” Changmin said.

He looked up from the electronic pad he used. Something else forbidden to Changmin. And Yoochun-nim’s was password protected. “Yes, Young Master?”

Changmin swallowed and shut his eyes. His hand slid over the smooth material of his dress pants and he rubbed his cock through his pants. Too many layers. Yoochun-nim had already pleasured him, in his closet, against a wall. They had been too close, not close enough. Changmin had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from touching Yoochun-nim.

“C-come ... c-come h-here,” Changmin whispered, hand faltering for a moment. He tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the pants.

Yoochun-nim rose, and Changmin shut his eyes, unable to watch him walk away. But he did not, and he moved around Changmin’s desk and stood next to him. Yoochun-nim was so good.

Changmin opened an eye and glanced up at him. Yoochun-nim stared at his face. Changmin had to swallow more than once before saying, “Use your mouth.”

Yoochun-nim stood there, face blank, body still, for so long that Changmin flushed in embarrassment and looked away. His hand left his crotch and he gripped the arms of the chair, head tilted back. Swallowing roughly to curb the hurt of rejection. Hands landed on his knees, and Changmin opened his eyes in time to see Yoochun-nim fall to his knees. Gracefully. Always so gracefully.

“If you will allow,” Yoochun-nim said, “I would like to use my hands to open your pants. I do not think I could do that with my mouth.”

Changmin cut back a whimper and nodded. “Practice.”

“Practice now, Young Master, or next time?”

“N-next time.”

Yoochun-nim smiled and reached for the pants. He pulled the shirt free and his long nimble fingers brushed over Changmin’s stomach before unclasping the dress pants and lowering the zipper. Changmin moaned at the concentration on Yoochun-nim’s face. He pulled at the top of the pants and Changmin lifted his hips, allowing Yoochun-nim to peel the pants down past his knees.

“Shoes, shoes,” Changmin demanded.

Yoochun-nim chuckled and leaned back enough to remove Changmin’s shoes, and then pulled the pants off. When he paused to fold them, Changmin made a noise of disbelief.

Yoochun-nim looked up at him with a single raised eyebrow.

Changmin flushed and grumbled, but did not protest more as Yoochun-nim folded his pants and the boxers he had worn and placed both neatly on the desk. The ends of Changmin’s shirt covered his cock, and Yoochun-nim tittered in annoyance. His fingers went to the buttons, and Changmin’s chest rose and fell in heavy breaths while Yoochun-nim finished undressing him. The upholstery of the chair scraped over his sensitive skin.

Hands landed on his knees again, and Yoochun-nim leaned forward. The first touch of tongue to his erection had Changmin screaming, trying to spread his legs in the confines of the chair. His cock pulsed. Yoochun-nim’s breath was warm, his fingers shaking as they moved up his thighs. He licked up and around Changmin’s cock, around the base and shaft to the head, tongue following the ridge and then shifting, to grip the crown with his lips, lift without his hands, and suck lightly.

Changmin shivered and places shaking hands on top of Yoochun-nim’s head.

Yoochun-nim breathed in deep through his nose and bobbed his head, and Changmin’s head went light with pleasure, tilted back, fingers pulling at hair. He had no idea, no idea of anything but the feel of warm mouth and lips on his cock. He tried again and again to lift his legs, but the chair did not allow it. Or Yoochun-nim did not allow it with a firm grip to his thighs.

Lust pulsed through him at that thought. Of Yoochun-nim denying him something. Of Yoochun-nim saying no. Of Yoochun-nim telling him what to do.

Fingers cupped his balls, tugged and squeezed, and Changmin yanked on Yoochun-nim’s hair with a cry. His orgasm rushed through him embarrassingly fast and he stammered his way through a warning, but Yoochun-nim continued, never faltering, taking most of Changmin into his throat and then swallowing, tightening around him as Changmin came, and moaning? Did Yoochun-nim moan? Changmin was not sure because his own whimpers and cries filled the room, and his body sagged into the chair, fingers loosening their grip on Yoochun-nim’s hair, but not letting go. He gasped in the silence.

And then Yoochun-nim released his cock, and Changmin looked down with lust-blurry eyes and tugged at his hair, and Yoochun-nim smiled and crawled up him, over him, hands on the arms of the chair. He hovered over Changmin, his own dress pants obviously tented, and Changmin wanted to touch, wanted to see. He waited for a breathless minute, and then moved one hand, sliding it over Yoochun-nim’s broad shoulder and down his chest.

Yoochun-nim’s breathing sped up. He said nothing, and Changmin swallowed roughly before gripping Yoochun-nim’s erection through his pants.

“You cannot, Young Master,” Yoochun-nim whispered, eyes shut.

“Why not?”

Yoochun-nim almost smiled. “It is not your place.”

Changmin snorted. He used both hands to unfasten Yoochun-nim’s pants because even if he said no, he was not stopping Changmin. He pushed both pants and boxers down his thighs, and licked his lips when Yoochun-nim’s cock sprung free, bobbing just in view. It was long and slim, like the rest of them, hard and leaking, and Changmin held his breath as he wrapped his fingers around it. He stroked, backwards and awkward.

But Yoochun-nim sighed, eyes shutting, arms shaking. But Changmin knew that Yoochun-nim was right. He should not be pleasuring his servant. His slave?

Changmin glared at nothing and then pushed Yoochun-nim to the desk, so his ass was against it, leaning, legs spread, cock protruding from all the black. He pulled the chair forward and lowered his mouth. Yoochun-nim half protested and then moaned when Changmin licked at the weeping head of his erection. The burst of flavor from the precome filled him and Changmin moaned and moved, taking more, just a little. It was not as easy as Yoochun-nim made it seem. He gagged and then swallowed, determined. He learned his capacity, just about half of Yoochun-nim, and used his hand to grip the rest.

Fingers settled in his hair and then tightened on his head, and Changmin moaned, going faster.

But Yoochun-nim made a noise and slowed him back down, used his hands to control Changmin’s head, the speed, and Changmin’s cock throbbed. His other hand fell to his own lap and he stroked himself while Yoochun-nim fucked his throat. He concentrated on one without having to worry about the other. His mouth stayed tight, his tongue moving, but it was Yoochun-nim who dictated everything, and Changmin had a moment of clarity to realize that it was always this way. Yoochun-nim who was his servant.

And his master.

Changmin whimpered, pleasure pulsing through him and Yoochun-nim sped up, hips moving forward, gagging Changmin with a harsh thrust and then his mouth was full of heady, warm, salty, spunk and he pulled away coughing and felt more splatter up on his face and neck. His own hand stopped, his cock protesting with a thick pulse of precome. He leaned his come-covered face against Yoochun-nim’s bare hip, and his hand continued. His breath warmed the skin of Yoochun-nim’s hip.

Soft fingers touched his face and tilted up his chin, and Changmin looked up. Yoochun-nim’s eyes were dark, hooded, lustful, and Changmin shut his eyes with a sigh.

Lips touched his and Changmin tried to jerk away, but Yoochun-nim held him in place, opening his mouth with his tongue and Changmin relaxed, sped up his strokes, and Yoochun-nim kissed him, hands sliding through the come on his face, holding him in place.

In place.

In his place.

Changmin broke away with a cry, and shuddered through another orgasm, this one flinging from his cock and staining Yoochun-nim’s pants in white.

He sagged against the chair, whimpering in disbelief and awe, and Yoochun-nim followed him, not allowing him to breathe, but stealing his breath and whimpers with another kiss.

The room spun. His heart stopped.

Falling.

Like the sun, The windows were black.

Yoochun-nim’s smile was bright.

Changmin smiled back.

\---

Changmin hated to go to bed alone. He hated that he slept by himself. But in the morning, when he woke up with lips on his cock, and fingers on his thighs, he did not mind so much.


	2. Nothing Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changmin is protected. The heir to the throne is always a target. He must be protected. Confined. Imprisoned. Until he is needed. He cannot handle it. He cannot survive like that. He is ready to do something drastic. And then Yoochun-nim shows him a way to relax, a way to unwind. A way to rebel.

Two weeks. A blink in time in his prison. Every day felt like a minute with Yoochun-nim. His mouth, his hands, his smiles and his moans. His come. Changmin learned to swallow it. Learned to coax it from Yoochun-nim’s stoic and well-trained body. He learned to shift his knees, allow him a better angle. He learned to take more of Yoochun-nim’s cock into his mouth. He learned to come only when Yoochun-nim had his fill of teasing and touching.

He learned that more than one bath or shower in a day was necessary when he was covered in come.

And he learned that he wanted more. But had no idea how to ask for more. Not demand. Ask. Beg. Plead. He learned that he no longer commanded Yoochun-nim when they were together. And he learned that he did not mind so much.

He left the bathing room, his robe open, skin still warm.

Yoochun-nim waited just inside the door of his bedroom. The shirt he wore was blue, the ribbon still a bright red. Changmin had not garnered the courage to touch it. He moved by his servant and lay on the bed, on his stomach. He did not need to tell Yoochun-nim to join him. Hands ran up the back of his legs, tickling his knees, gripping his thighs under the robe, and then the robe was over him, covering his head, and Yoochun-nim continued up his ass and along his back.

Changmin struggled to bend his arms enough to get the robe off. Yoochun-nim did not help him. The robe became a pillow and Changmin balled it up under his head, body shaking from just Yoochun’s touch on his skin. And the feel of his soft dress pants on his bare legs. The touch deepened and Changmin buried his moan into the robe. Cool splats landed on his skin and Changmin jerked from the sensation. A moment later, the moans returned as Yoochun-nim massaged his back, up over his shoulder, down to his tailbone.

And then over his ass.

Changmin whimpered, hips moving in a small circle against the bed, pressing up.

“Changmin-ah.”

Changmin stopped breathing. He dared not open his eyes. Dared not wake up from the dream.

Yoochun-nim chuckled and said his name again. The second time in more than ten years.

Changmin felt tears in his eyes. But before they fell, hands spread him open, pushed his buttcheeks together and then back open.

“Changmin-ah.”

With a whimper, Changmin nodded. “Please, please, please.”

“Please what?”

Changmin moaned at the soft caress of a finger along the curve of his ass. He felt himself pulsing, his body clamping down, tight, relax, tight, relax. Like breath on the window. In and out. Fog, no fog. But he lacked the capacity to think of numbers let alone count how many times in minute his body went through the process.

“I ... I don’t know. I don’t know, Yoochun-nim, please!”

“How about this?” Yoochun-nim asked and licked him, right up his cleft, hands keeping Changmin spread open.

“Yes, please, yes!”

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “Relax, Changmin-ah. Enjoy it.” He licked again and Changmin screamed, hips rising from the bed. Firm hands held his hips down. A sharp slap echoed around the room. A pain flashed at his hip. “Naughty. Do not move.”

Changmin shivered and humped the bed anyway.

Yoochun-nim slapped his hip again, and Changmin cried out, stretched out, legs spread. Yoochun-nim laughed again, a lower noise, one of pure amusement and control. Changmin humped the bed harder, his cock painfully swollen.

The tongue returned, up and down his cleft, pausing at his hole, licking, pressing, all over. Changmin lost track of its dance, its touch, its hold on his soul. A finger soon followed it, up and down, around and then inside, just a little, and Changmin keened, whined and moved faster. Finger, tongue, finger tongue.

_Tight, relax, tight, relax, tight tight tight--_

Changmin came, pumping his release all over the bed beneath him. He whined in disbelief, in awe, lust, pleasure. He heard Yoochun-nim chuckling through the haze in his brain. The finger left him, and then was back, slick and stinging, and so tight. Two fingers?

Changmin whimpered.

The fingers left him, the bed shifted and moved, and Changmin pried open an eye. He watched Yoochun-nim step back. Leaving, and Changmin moved, twisted with a cry.

And Yoochun-nim smirked. His eyes met Changmin’s, and Changmin looked away, pink flushing down his back in embarrassment.

Yoochun-nim only moved to his chair. He lifted his hand. Crooked his finger at Changmin.

 _Come here._ A silent command. Something normal when they rarely spoke during the day and still knew what the other needed. Wanted. Craved.

Shaking from the pleasure that tore through him from the simple command, Changmin moved. His legs wobbled and he dropped from the bed to his knees, clinging to the edge for a moment. Yoochun-nim’s chair was close to his bed, but felt so very far away. Changmin did not trust himself to stand up. He did not want to stand up.

He crawled over to Yoochun-nim and between his legs when Yoochun-nim spread them. Fingers trailed over his face, and Changmin shut his eyes.

“Naughty boy,” Yoochun-nim whispered, “making such a mess all over your bed. One that you will not have to clean up.”

Changmin flushed, head lowered. An apology was half out of his mouth when fingers gripped his chin and forced his head up. Lust slammed through him, and his cock pulsed a glob of his orgasm toward the floor.

“An apology does not fix the problem, does it, Changmin-ah?”

Changmin shook his head.

“So we need to teach you not to make a mess and show you what happens when you do.”

Changmin’s eyes went wide at the implications behind that. He licked his lips and nodded. “I understand.”

“Of course you do.” He pulled on Changmin’s arm and Changmin got the hint and moved to the side, body arching over Yoochun-nim’s knees. His skin flushed with embarrassment. He had not been spanked since his nanny had done so, how many years ago?

Yoochun-nim’s hand stung so much worse. He did not start small, but full smacks, the slap echoing and combining with Changmin’s cries. He only stopped long enough to press his fingers into Changmin’s ass, hum in contentment, and then continue spanking him. Changmin tried to support himself with his arms, his legs, anything, but could not, his weight leaned on Yoochun-nim’s thighs. His mouth stayed open in soundless cries and then weak whimpers. He drooled. He cried. He begged for it to stop.

His skin burned from the pain. His body pulsed from the humiliation. His cock throbbed from everything.

Fingers. Two fingers, and then three, and more lotion dripped to his body, and then Yoochun-nim’s thumb, yanking him open, spreading him, twisting, four fingers. And pain. So much pain. But still, tight relax tight relax tight relax.

And then it stopped. Suddenly. Quickly. Yoochun-nim pushed him off his legs and Changmin fell to the floor, crying, shaking.

“Bed,” Yoochun-nim said, pushing at him with his boot. “Go lean on the bed.”

It took too long. But Changmin managed, half crawling, half sliding. He used the edge of the bed to pull himself up, and then he leaned against it, knees on the soft carpet, cock smashed against the side.

“Spread your legs more.”

Soft hands gripped his ass and a cold pile of lotion dripped down his cleft.

“Such a good boy.” Something much larger than his fingers spread the lotion up and around his body. Tight, relax, tight, relax. The moment Changmin realized it was Yoochun-nim’s cock, he was pushing, thrusting, slamming himself inside Changmin’s ass, and Changmin screamed from the surprise, from the stretch and the force.

“Such ... a good ... boy,” he groaned.

Changmin doubted that. He froze, unable to move. Something like pleasure but sure as hell felt more like pain twisted up his spine, radiating a mess of blabbering from his mouth. Hands, nails, dragged down his skin. Sharp. Something to focus on. They stopped at his waist, gripping tight.

Tight, relax, tight relax tight. His breath found a cadence. His body followed, pushing back with a gasp, with a high whimper. Tight, tight, tight.

Someone was moaning, someone besides him, and it took too many thrusts for his brain to understand that it was Yoochun-nim. Moaning. Gasping praise. Words. And the moans grew louder with Changmin moving, so he kept going, faster, pushing back, each slap of skin on skin shot pain up his spine.

Yoochun-nim cursed. A beautiful noise tossed in the waves through Changmin’s head.

And then he stopped, and Changmin whimpered, still trying to thrust back with his body pressed against the bed, Yoochun-nim bent over him. He pulled out and then thrust back in, his moan shaky, his grip loosening.

Changmin finally understood that Yoochun-nim had come, he was done, and his body sagged into the bed with a tight noise of relief. But still, tight relax tight relax, tightening up around something not meant to be inside his body, relaxing to release it, tight, relax, tight, tight, tight to keep him, hold him, never let him go.

“Such a good boy,” Yoochun-nim whispered and lips pressed to Changmin’s back, teeth bit down at the base of his neck. His hands pressed to the bed next to Changmin’s head and Changmin finally got his hearing back, he finally felt skin against his back, and his ass stung, inside and out.

He kissed up Changmin’s neck, to his cheek, tongue following the tear track to the corner of his eyes. “How are you?”

Changmin thought about it. Sore, in pain, but not hurt, not abused.

Taken. Used. Fucked.

Changmin smiled, and it made Yoochun-nim laugh.

“Let’s go take a bath,” he said. “Although I desperately want your ass full of my come all the time.”

“Guess you’ll just have to add more, Yoochun-nim.”

“Tomorrow?” he whispered, tugging on Changmin’s ear with his teeth.

“Every day.”

He chuckled. “As you wish, Young Master.”

Changmin made a face that had Yoochun-nim laughing. He finally pulled away, slipped out of Changmin’s ass and stood up.

Changmin felt alone without his weight on top of him.

“Stay,” Yoochun-nim said. “Do not move.”

Changmin huffed at the order even if he was thankful he had a reason to relax, catch his breath, and rub his hard cock on the edge of the bed. When did that happen?

Probably when Yoochun-nim ordered him to stay. The pleasure continued to blend in with each other and Changmin continued to rut against the bed.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move?” Yoochun-nim said a moment before a harsh smack landed on his sore ass.

Changmin moaned and shut his eyes tightly.

Fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his head up. “Look at me.”

Blurry vision. Yoochun-nim swimmed in it. Shirtless. Strong. So handsome.

Changmin whimpered.

“Are you okay to crawl or do you need to get up and walk?”

“Definitely crawl.”

Yoochun-nim definitely smirked. “Come on then.” He tugged on his hair, and Changmin winced. He pushed away from the bed and dropped to his hands and knees. His body wavered, muscles tightening in protest. Yoochun-nim tutted at him from the delay, and Changmin attempted to move. One hand. One knee. Blinking through the blurry. He followed Yoochun-nim who only wore dress pants, unfastened, loose.

His knees ached. His arms shook. Wet dripped down his inner thighs. Everything hurt. Mostly. But he felt so good. So ... cowed.

Sort of.

The warmth of carpet stopped and led to the cool tile floor of the bathroom. His knees stung on the tile, red and sore from rubbing on carpet. Heat steamed through the room. The rush of water into the tub was loud. It smelled of cotton and vanilla. Sweet and comforting.

“Stay,” Yoochun-nim said and pushed Changmin’s head. “Head on the floor.”

His cock throbbed as he did as he was told, eyes shutting at the feeling of cold marble on his cheek. He tried to watch as Yoochun-nim walked around him. A warm cloth slipped between his legs and Changmin whimpered at the touch, blushing because Yoochun-nim was wiping his ass, a mess that he made, but it still felt so wrong. The cloth returned again and again and then fingers dipped into his body.

“You’re bleeding,” Yoochun-nim said in the same voice that he told Changmin what food was for dinner.

Changmin moaned, spreading his legs, trying not to thrust back on Yoochun-nim’s fingers.

The cloth left and returned many times, the soft material felt like sandpaper on the bruised skin of his ass. But nothing really hurt. Not debilitating. It was all so different. All so exhilarating. _Tight, relax, tight, relax._

“Okay, Changmin-ah, into the tub.”

Changmin took a deep breath and moved toward the full tub. Steam rose from it and he knew it was going to sting on his sensitive skin. And he was right. He settled into the tub with a moan. A moment later, his head was lifted and a soft towel was placed under it. He smiled. Lips pressed against his forehead.

Quiet movement filtered through the relaxing fog in Changmin’s mind.

“Lift your foot,” Yoochun-nim said.

Changmin pried open an eye to see Yoochun-nim sitting at the end of the tub, hand out. It made little sense, but he lifted his leg. A washcloth wrapped up and around his foot, his ankle. Fingers followed in a firm massage and traveled up his calf. It was hard to hold his foot up when he wanted relax. When Yoochun-nim reached his knee, he stopped and then snapped his fingers for the other foot, and Changmin blushed, feeling his cock throb at the silent command.

“Do you know what a safe word is, Young Master?” Yoochun-nim asked.

Changmin shook his head.

“A safe word is a word that you or I will say if I ever do anything to you that you cannot handle.”

Changmin scrunched his face. “Huh?”

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “During sex, Young Master. You do plan on letting me fuck you again, yes?”

Changmin’s face burned but he rolled his eyes like he wasn’t hard as a rock under the water. He lifted a hand from the heat with a dismissive wave that he definitely did not feel.

“Your ass is going to burn a beautiful shade of red for the next day or two,” Yoochun-nim continued, “but if you will allow it, I plan on taking more than just my hand to your pretty skin. You have a beautiful collection of leather belts.”

Changmin moaned, covered his face with his hands, as he imagined Yoochun-nim whipping him with a belt.

Yoochun-nim chuckled again and set his foot back in the water. “Duck your head, get your hair wet, and then sit up and move forward,” he said.

Changmin did as he was told and he was not surprised when Yoochun-nim sat on the edge of the tub behind him. Yoochun-nim washed his hair, fingers digging into the scalp in a firm massage. He touched Changmin’s shoulder, and Changmin followed the silent cue to rinse out his hair.

“I also have many ideas for all the ties in your closet, tying you up, gagging you, blindfolding you,” Yoochun-nim said

Changmin shivered and cursed mentally. Voice a little breathy, he said, “How can I say a word if I am gagged?”

Yoochun-nim smirked. “I have faith in you, Young Master. Now, up, bend over the edge.”

Changmin’s muscles did not want to cooperate, but he pushed up and turned to lean over the edge of the tub. Yoochun-nim used the washcloth and Changmin’s floral body wash to clean his back and down his ass, fingers dipping into him again.

Yoochun-nim did not usually help him wash.

The firm massage came to the back of his thighs, one hand slipping under the water to tug on his erection.

“W-why?” Changmin tried and had to stop and breathe at the sensations along his skin.

“Why what, Young Master?”

“Why-why ... this ... why ...” He moaned, head swimming with need.

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “Do not tell me that you have forgotten the lessons of your nanny, Young Master? Did she not teach you that you have to take care of your toys?”

Toys.

A toy. To play with.

He was Yoochun-nim’s toy. He bit his lip against a moan and rocked back onto Yoochun-nim’s hand.

Yoochun-nim laughed. “Now, your safe word, Young Master. This is very important.”

Changmin thought about the last few weeks, the last few moments of freedom, and wondered how long this feeling would last. This different, new feeling. Actually feeling. Not just living. Not just breathing. He only felt this same way learning something new, when Yoochun-nim brought him new things to study. And this, well, he was learning something new.

But it was one thing, one moment that started it all, and it was the most important moment in his entire life.

“Ribbon,” Changmin said.

And he was met with silence and the sound of water dripping into the water as Yoochun-nim washed his back.

“That is okay,” Yoochun-nim said, “but what if I wish to bind you to the bed and tease your skin with ribbons?”

Changmin moaned.

With a chuckle, Yoochun-nim pushed at his hip and Changmin fell back into the water. “Think on it more. It does not need to be decided tonight. Until you pick a word that suits you, you may just use ‘safe word,’ if you need it. Rinse off and get out of the tub.”

Changmin did and stayed on his knees. Yoochun-nim dried him off and led him back to the bed. His half hard cock demanded some attention, and he whined when Yoochun-nim did nothing more than tuck him into bed.

“Sleep, Changmin-ah,” Yoochun-nim whispered just before he pressed a kiss to his lips. “Tomorrow is full of possibilities.”

Changmin huffed but nodded.

Yoochun-nim smiled at him and then headed out of the room. He turned off the light. His silhouette darkened the doorway.

“Just one more thing,” he said, humor in his voice. “You do not have permission to masturbate, Young Master.”

Changmin groaned in disappointment.

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “From this moment on, you will only come with I let you. Do not disappointment me.”

And if that wasn’t enough to fill his cock and have him throbbing. Changmin moaned and curled up under his covers.

The door shut on Yoochun-nim’s laughter.

\---

Changmin woke up to his body moving. Sore muscles protested. He groaned, trying to move away from whatever held him still. His eyes opened to the image of Yoochun-nim above him. And legs. His own legs. Held firmly in Yoochun-nim’s hands, bent up, in half. Sore, tight.

Tight.

Changmin whimpered, reaching for Yoochun-nim. He slapped at Changmin’s thigh. “No. Hands above your head.” Mind still not functioning, Changmin managed to obey. He reached above him. The bed moved, his body moved, Yoochun-nim’s soft slacks pressed against Changmin’s painful, sore ass. His bare skin.

Tight.

“Good morning, Changmin-ah,” Yoochun-nim said, pressing a kiss to Changmin’s ankle.

Changmin moaned, lifting his hips into Yoochun’s thrusts. Smooth thrusts, not so painful, addicting. HIs eyes opened wide and he stretched, his muscles relaxing, body opening, legs shifting.

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “Already accustomed to my cock. Such a good boy.”

Changmin whimpered. His cock throbbed against his own stomach. Lust and pleasure and submission twisted through him, gathered in his stomach. Submission. Subjugation. Control. Or lack thereof.

Submission stayed his hands, kept them above his head even if he wanted to stroke himself off. Submission stayed his mouth, kept it shut, kept himself from begging. Yoochun-nim would let him come when Yoochun-nim wanted him to come.

But submission urged him on, drew him closer and closer to coming without being touched, closer and closer to coming with Yoochun-nim fucking him harder and faster. His own moans echoed through his bedroom, his thighs grew tight, clenched. His stomach clenched. His head swam. He hit the edge of release and it stopped. Thwarted, throwing his eyes open. He screamed but did not come, shook but did not have completion.

Yoochun-nim laughed.

Changmin spiraled from the teasing pleasure, spinning down back to the bed, gasping through the fake, lying, cheating, unfair pressure. Still his body moved with Yoochun-nim’s thrusts. Up and down, tight, relax. Tight. So very tight. Still the pleasure grew. Still the lust slammed through him.

Yoochun-nim chuckled again and he stopped, bodies pressed together. His mouth closed around Changmin ankle and he bit down, pulling another whimper from Changmin while Yoochun-nim shook through a deep moan.

They sat, pressed together for a moment, and then Yoochun-nim pulled away. His cock fell from Changmin’s body, and the wet sticky sensation of come filled his cleft.

Yoochun-nim let Changmin’s legs down to the bed. He used a washcloth to wipe off his dick before refastening and readjusting his clothes.

A bright yellow shirt.

Like sunshine that Changmin never saw unfiltered through the windows.

Changmin sighed and smiled.

“Happy?” Yoochun-nim asked.

Changmin thought about that. He was not sure. He had never been happy before. “Maybe.”

Yoochun-nim smiled. “Go use the bathroom and then shower. Not a bath. I do not want to wait for you to bathe. You take way too long.”

Changmin grunted and swung his legs around the bed. His hard cock pressed against his stomach. He looked down at it and noted a slim line of black at the base.

“You’ll have to take that off,” Yoochun-nim said, “but you aren’t allowed to come and I want it back on as soon as you’re done pissing.”

Changmin flushed as he stared. He had no idea what it was beyond the fact that it had obviously kept him from coming earlier. He’d figure it out. Maybe. He stood up, and just a single noise of disapproval from Yoochun-nim had him dropping to his knees.

“Good boy,” he said, and Changmin flushed brighter red as he crawled past Yoochun-nim and into his bathroom. The mess in his ass made dirty squelching noises as he moved.

The small water closet held a toilet and bidet. He went there, shut the door, and then stood up. The black ring on his cock dug into the base tightly, and it took a moment to realize there was nothing special about it and it just slipped on. It reminded him of the bands that Yoochun-nim had worn in his hair before he started wearing ribbons. Changmin gripped his cock and hissed, the noise breaking off with a pained whimper as the circle of black slid up his cock. As soon as it was off, Changmin let go of his cock, breathing deeply to keep from coming, but his cock was hard and he had to hold it to piss and he stood there for a long time without doing either but unable to touch himself.

The door opened.

“Problems?” Yoochun-nim asked.

Changmin whimpered. “Can’t ... just ... please.”

Yoochun-nim chuckled. He pressed against Changmin’s back, and Changmin gasped when it was not cloth that touched his skin, but skin. Chest, thighs, cock. Yoochun-nim was naked.

“You know how to piss standing up, don’t you?” he asked and reached around Changmin.

Changmin shook his head. “Don’t please, I ...”

Fingers wrapped around his cock and held him down. He cried out and fell over the toilet, hands on the wall. A second later, Yoochun’s cock was inside him, sliding in deep from the angle, and Changmin moaned, pushed back, and then forward. Yoochun-nim’s hand tightened on his cock.

“Just hold yourself down and piss, Changmin-ah. Come on.”

Changmin shook his head, mouth open, drooling, trying desperately to not come, and then Yoochun’s hand moved, a quick few movements, strokes with a twist, and Changmin screamed, body shaking, and coming, and he splattered his release all over the toilet, hands falling to the cool porcelain back.

Yoochun-nim tutted at him.

“I’m sorry,” Changmin managed. “I’m ... I’m sorry.”

“Remember what I said last night?”

Changmin nodded.

“What did I say?”

“A sorry does not fix it.”

“No, it does not. And you did not have permission to come, did you?”

He shook his head frantically.

Yoochun-nim still held him, still fucked him slowly. He pushed Changmin’s cock down, and used his other hand to press his bladder.

Changmin whimpered in shame and just as suddenly, he was pissing, into the bowl, thankfully. He felt like he pissed for a long time, and then he was done, and Yoochun-nim wiped his dirty hand up Changmin’s chest. He pressed at Changmin’s shoulders and he sank to his knees, shaking as Yoochun’s erection slid from him. Thankfully. Shamefully. Hiding his face against Yoochun-nim’s bare thigh.

The toilet flushed.

“Come,” Yoochun-nim said and opened the door.

Changmin left the bathroom. On the floor lay a couple of his soft, large towels.

“Lay on your side, knees up to your chest.”

Changmin did not question it, did not want to. Yoochun-nim’s orders were clipped, short, not playful. Because Changmin had disobeyed. He lay on the rugs, body shaking a little and did not protest at the harsh wipe of a cloth up his ass.

“Do not move.”

Changmin barely breathed.

Something pressed into him and then Yoochun-nim said, “This will feel weird, but I promise that I am not hurting you.”

Changmin believed him. He trusted Yoochun-nim who ate his food and drank his water first, just in case.

It felt weird. A weird pressure. A weird sensation of warmth and ... water. Something. Up his ass, inside his body.

“You will be better today, yes?”

Better? What did that mean? Changmin nodded anyway.

“Good boy.”

He did not know how long he lay there until Yoochun-nim told him to get up, crawl to the toilet. “Tighten your ass muscles or you’ll regret it.”

Changmin did and then sat on the toilet, the come-covered toilet, and flushed a bright shade of red as more than just whatever liquid was inside him burst from his body. He covered his face with his hands, very aware of Yoochun-nim watching him.

“This is an enema, to clean you out, when I want you clean. I may not always use it. I may want to fuck you dirty.”

Changmin shivered, felt his cock twitch and harden. He sat and shit until Yoochun-nim told him to stop, wipe up, go to the shower. On his hands and knees. He did, faltering, trying not to cry because he was a fucking prince and crawling, pissing, shitting for Yoochun-nim was not ...

was not ...

was not what?

Not what Changmin wanted? That was a lie.

Not dignified? But that was the point.

Not what he expected? Definitely. That.

Still thrilling. Still not normal.

He climbed into the large shower and waited on his hands and knees. Yoochun-nim followed him and the water turned on, the cold spray landing directly on Changmin’s back. Yoochun-nim used the removable shower head and completely doused him in icy water, making sure to hold the harsh stream against his ass that still stung, and then he put it back and changed the way the water flowed, through one overhead spout.

“Go kneel over there,” Yoochun-nim said and shoved him with his foot.

Changmin crawled over the side. There was a bench there, and Changmin turned around and kneeled in front of it. He was not close enough to touch. Not close enough to talk. Only close enough to watch and to shiver as the cool spray of water hit his skin.

Yoochun-nim stood naked in the shower.

The first time Changmin had seen him completely naked. He was lithe and strong, with square shoulders and muscled arms. His stomach was not as defined as other parts of him, but he obviously exercised and he took care of his skin.

Changmin’s cock hardened as he watched Yoochun-nim shampoo his hair. Long hair, past his shoulders now. Changmin wanted to run his hands through. He wanted permission.

“Are you cold?” Yoochun-nim asked.

Changmin nodded.

Yoochun-nim stepped toward him, hand on his cock, and Changmin shouted in surprise at the first splash of warm piss on his chest and then his neck, and face, and he shut his eyes, trying not to cry, and Yoochun-nim chuckled.

“Open your mouth.”

Changmin did not want to.

Changmin opened his mouth.

Yoochun-nim stepped even closer and finished pissing in his mouth and curled a hand behind his head and pulled him forward, fucking his throat. Changmin felt tears mix with the piss dripping off his face.

“You are so beautiful, Changmin-ah. So beautiful like this. You belong to me, just like this, willing to do everything I say and obey me. Right?”

Changmin nodded and opened his eyes. Piss clung to his eyelashes and he tried to blink the sting away.

“Good boy. Crawl into the shower spray.”

Like the night in the tub, Changmin did nothing but move where Yoochun-nim told him to. Yoochun-nim washed his hair and his body. He washed his ass and pressed fingers inside him. He went head to toe, cleaning every inch of him. And then he dried him off. After that, he followed Yoochun-nim into the dining room, but when he tried to climb into his chair, Yoochun-nim tutted at him and pointed to the floor, next to the other chair.

Yoochun-nim sat down and Changmin kneeled next to his chair. Yoochun-nim fed him breakfast from his fingers. Fruit, a bit of meat and rice, kimchi from a spoon. He wiped Changmin’s lips with a napkin.

It was heady, ethereal, addicting. Changmin craved Yoochun-nim’s smiles and whispers of “Good boy” pressed against his ear.

“I want you to go into the bedroom and put on the outfit that I left out for you. After that, go to the library and continue your studies. You’re reading and memorizing our code of law, correct?”

Changmin nodded.

“Good. You’ll need it when you are king.”

“Will I need you?” Changmin asked before he could stop himself.

Yoochun-nim frowned at him and Changmin ducked his head. It was silent for way too long.

“Before you go do all that, I have one more thing for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something bright red. Like the ribbon in his hair. There were two ovals connected by a thin cord.

“Do you know what this is?”

Changmin shook his head.

“It’s called a bullet. Turn around, put your head to the floor, ass in the air, and grip your ankles.”

Eyes wide, Changmin hurried to obey, flushing from the position that had his ass open and ready for whatever Yoochun-nim wanted to do to it.

“This is what I will call ‘the position’ from now on. When I tell you to get into position, this is what I mean. No matter where you are. No matter what you are wearing. Just like this. Understand?”

Changmin nodded frantically. And then he screamed when Yoochun’s firm hand slapped him and then again, again, and again, over and over, on the already sore ass. Changmin stopped breathing, felt his head go light, vision go gray.

But it was not the same. Not a panic attack. He could feel and hear and think and want. Want. Need. God, he needed. His cock pulsed and slapped up to his stomach. He cried, tears soaking into the carpet.

And then it just stopped. Hands smoothed the heated skin.

“You came without permission, remember?”

Changmin sobbed and nodded.

“Do better.”

“I will. I will. I will.”

“I know you will. But do you know why you will?”

“Good, please, good boy.”

Yoochun-nim chuckled. “You are such a good boy, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin sobbed in relief.

A stream of cool liquid dripped down his cleft.

“Now. A bullet. A bullet is a little toy used for pleasure,” Yoochun-nim said just before pressing the larger of the two ovals into Changmin’s ass. It popped passed the tight ring of muscle and a second later started vibrating.

Changmin screamed and Yoochun-nim laughed.

“This is to stay inside you today until I take it out. Understand?”

“Yes, Y-y-yoochun-nim.”

Yoochun-nim spanked his ass just once more. “Turn around, on your knees.”

Changmin let go of his ankles and turned around. The black ring was in Yoochun-nim’s hand. “As always, you do not have permission to come. One day you will not need a cock ring to help you.”

Yoochun-nim stroked his cock, and Changmin dug his own nails into his thighs and bit back a hiss of pleasure. When he was hard and aching again, Yoochun-nim slid the ring down his cock. The vibrations, the tightness, the pain of his ass.

Changmin’s head swam and he moaned.

Yoochun-nim leaned forward and pressed a long, wet kiss to his lips. “Such a good boy. Go do as I said.”

“Yes, Yoochun-nim.”

Only an hour later, his ass stinging from the spankings, but pressed against the hard wooden chair, and the toy vibrating inside him and his cock leaking a hell of a mess in his boxers and slacks, Changmin sat up straight. He had not been concentrating on his studies much.

His mind cleared. His lips curved in a smile. He turned to look at Yoochun-nim who stood by the door of the study.

“Defenestrate,” Changmin said.

Yoochun-nim lifted an eyebrow in question.

“My safe word. Defenestrate. It means to throw out a window.”

“I am aware of that. Why that word?”

Changmin glanced at the other chair, the one he usually tried to throw out the window. “Because I don’t want to.” He met Yoochun-nim’s eyes. “Not anymore. Not ... not ...”

Yoochun-nim smiled and walked toward him, and Changmin held his breath until Yoochun-nim was close enough for Changmin to press his face into his stomach. He took a deep breath full of Yoochun-nim’s spicy cologne.

And then he lifted his head. “It can’t feel any better than this. It just can’t.”

“You thought it would, falling out of a window?”

Changmin frowned and shut his eyes. Fingers trailed over his face. “Not falling. Being thrown. Forced. Away. It ... It ... Anything is better than being stuck in four rooms, Yoochun-nim.”

Yoochun-nim exhaled, long slow, like he was thinking of a response.

Changmin looked up at him and said, “May I ask something of you?”

Yoochun-nim smiled. “You may ask anything of me, Young Master.”

Changmin bit his lip and then forged ahead. He pushed Yoochun-nim away, fell to his knees and then put himself into the position, gripping his bare ankles under the hem of the pants. The pants were too tight and stretched uncomfortably over his crotch. The white shirt felt plastered to his back. The little toy shifted inside him, reminding him it was there, vibrating merrily on his insides. His cock throbbed.

_tight, relax, tight, relax_

“Please don’t call me that anymore. Please. And let me call you master,” Changmin whispered, meeting Yoochun-nim’s eyes.

Yoochun-nim stared at him, so closed, so empty, and then he nodded his head, just once, and said, “As you wish, Changmin-ah.”


	3. Nothing Needed

_Tight._

_Relax._

_Tight_

_Relax._

It mattered on what was inside his ass, how many times in one minute he went through the process. When it was something that vibrated, it was more. When it was just a buttplug or a dildo, it was less.

It mattered on if he had been allowed to come within the last few hours or not. Needing to come made the process faster.

It mattered on if he was sitting in a chair (a higher number) or laying on his bed (a lower number) or in position, waiting for Yoochun-master to use him (the highest number).

Changmin learned that it didn’t matter how often his body went through the process. But that orgasms mattered. At least one a day, two if he really needed it, three if Yoochun-master was feeling extra generous.

Changmin learned that leaving his clothes on the floor meant he was tossed over Yoochun-master’s lap and his ass giving a thorough spanking. Leaving books strewn about his study or attempting to eat without Yoochun-master to feed him prompted the same punishment.

Not that he minded. He was an adult. He knew how to take care of himself. He knew how to clean up after himself. But that was not the point of the small things that let him rebel and get in trouble.

And skin on skin hurt in the most delicious way.

Leather on skin made his head light, his body float, his skin sizzle.

And wood on skin, the rough hewn scrape of a paddle, well, Changmin had yet to explain what exactly that made him do besides come without permission.

Changmin analyzed his brain almost on a daily basis. It was different now than it had been two months ago. But different how? Just enough that he no longer threw chairs at the window. He no longer thought to throw chairs at the window. But he still felt caged, looking down at the people so far below. Specks moving this way and that.

His breath still quickened when he thought of that. His life moved slow. His life moved through four rooms. Four because he was honest with himself.

And then life stopped, for brief moments, just like his orgasms stopped for long moments. Yoochun-master took it all away. For a while. Changmin still had to exercise. He still had to study. He still had to learn law and history and science and physics. Because ultimately his life had a goal and a purpose. But it was different because Yoochun-master let him study with a plug in his ass, let him exercise different parts of his body with other parts of his body restrained, let him recite obscure laws and decrees and have a paddle slap against his ass if he got it wrong, which made it more tempting to answer wrong, but if he answered all wrong, then his orgasm was denied for another few hours, and as he learned early on, the orgasms mattered.

“That is twice you have sighed in the last twenty minutes, Changmin-ah,” Yoochun-master said, running his hands through Changmin’s hair.

Changmin shut his eyes and tilted his head into the touch that trailed down his neck, fingers soft against the hickys and faded bite marks. He shifted on the floor, the small plug in his ass, shifted with him, and he let out a little sigh. The book on ancient history, when their country was split in two, lay across one knee. He had read the same paragraph four times. So unlike him.

“I cannot concentrate today, Yoochun-master.”

“Why not?”

Changmin frowned and thought about that. The day had been no different than the day before except that Yoochun-master had allowed him to come in the shower while Yoochun-master pissed over his skin.

“I ...”

Changmin was also learning how to talk about what he was feeling, usually because Yoochun-master ordered him to.

“I ... I am ... content. Happy, maybe?”

“And this bothers you?”

Changmin bit his lip and nodded.

Yoochun-master tugged on his ear. “How come?”

Glancing up, Changmin felt his cheeks flush, his neck heat, and he said, “What if it all goes away?”

“You are afraid,” Yoochun-master said. He tugged on the back of Changmin’s neck, pulling in a command to turn, kneel, and Changmin did, shuffling between his legs. He kept his hands on Yoochun-master’s thighs because he did not have permission to touch anywhere else. He felt his eyes tighten, tears threatening.

He was too old to cry when he was not being denied an orgasm.

“What are you afraid of?”

Changmin met his eyes, pondering how to say it, how to explain, if he should say it, what if he shouldn’t. “I do not want you to go away.”

Yoochun-master smiled. “I will not.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do. Trust me, Changmin-ah. I am not going anywhere.”

“What about--” He glanced at the window. He never talked to Yoochun-master about outside. About after. About his future. He understood his future. He understood what was expected of him as the heir to the throne. The Shim family had ruled the United Republic of Korea for centuries. Other countries’ media called it “Shim Korea” or “Shim’s Family Playland.” It was definitely not a republic. His family ruled with laws and decrees that kept control of the people. He understood how to rule and Yoochun-master even coached him on how to keep the farce of a parliament in line to the Shim control.

But his father was mortal. His father would die. Changmin would rule in his place. Changmin would go outside, be outside, walk around outside. Be exposed.

He did not want to bear it if Yoochun-master left him.

Yoochun-master cupped his cheeks. “Trust me.”

“I do.”

Yoochun-master smiled and covered the space between their lips. Kisses were few and far between, usually only given in the moment before Yoochun-master released. Or after, soft kisses of comfort. Kisses like this one were non-existent. Yoochun-master picked up his hands, put them on his own cheeks, and Changmin shivered, able to touch, encouraged to touch, and he slid his hands back, into Yoochun-master’s long hair. His fingers found the ribbon and he tugged on it, loosening its hold, and Yoochun-master hummed into his mouth, sliding his hands down Changmin’s shoulder. He slid his tongue forward and Changmin met it with a noise and a jerk, wanting more of his mouth, more of his taste, more of that outdoor-spicy-forbidden smell of his skin and clothes.

When Yoochun-master pulled away, Changmin was crying. He did not know why he was crying. He did not know why his chest was so tight. He did not know why he wanted to just stare at Yoochun-master, touch his hair, kiss his lips.

Yoochun-master wiped at Changmin’s cheeks. “Let’s break the schedule today, Changmin-ah,” he said. “Go to the bedroom. Be naked and in position for me in the middle of the bed.”

Changmin bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yes, master.”

“Good boy.”

Changmin shifted around and crawled out of the study and into his bedroom. He no longer wanted to think, so instead of folding his clothes properly at the end of the bed like Yoochun-master taught him to do, Changmin flung them on the floor. He climbed on the bed and laid flat for only a moment, letting his body _tight relax tight relax_ around the dildo inside him, and then he pushed up, to his knees, head turned and flat on the bed, gripping his ankles.

And he waited. He normally did not mind waiting. He normally controlled his breathing, relaxed his body, and counted the _tight relax tight relax_.

But after this, after telling Yoochun-master his fear of him not being there, he panicked and breathed deep. HIs head went light. His muscles shook.

He dug his fingernails into his ankles and did not feel the pain.

Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten.

Changmin’s gasps echoed in the room. He felt the panic close his throat. Felt his lungs fill with non-existent water. Felt his head go light. Felt his muscles attempt to relax and give up and pass out.

But he did not break position. Because what if Yoochun-master walked through the door and he was not as ordered? He did not want to disappoint Yoochun-master. Not ever.

But what if Yoochun-master did not come through the door? What if someone else came through the door?

Changmin whined, a loud, low sound that hurt his throat and squeezed tears from his eyes. His body swayed side to side.

“Shh, Changmin-ah, shh. You’re okay.” Hands ran up the back of his thighs. Yoochun-master cooed at him, talking nonsense until Changmin relaxed.

Changmin gasped in relief, deep sobs that had his back swaying, his knees collapsing.

“I am sorry that took me so long,” Yoochun-master said, running first his hands and then his mouth up the back of Changmin’s thighs and to his ass.

Changmin attempted to steady his breathing, calm now that familiar hands were on him and Yoochun-master would make it hard for him to think about anything else.

“Such a naughty boy, leaving your clothes all over the place. You will be punished for it, don’t think I’ll forget, but not right now. For now, I need to you to roll to your back and lift your hands to the headboard.”

Changmin’s headboard was made of wooden, carved posts that let the white wall behind peek through. When he was younger, he used to pretend it was a jail cell. Now, Yoochun-master used the posts to bind him.

Changmin turned over and lifted his arms. A second later, Yoochun-master straddled his chest, still clothed, the soft fabric of his pants caressing his side. He shivered, skin prickling with goosebumps.

Cold metal clicked around his wrists and Changmin looked up in surprise. Handcuffs. Yoochun-master had never used handcuffs before.

“I snuck them in,” he explained and that was it.

Changmin wanted to ask. It made sense that someone told Yoochun-master what to do outside of the room. He had rules to follow. But Changmin rarely thought about it. Because outside did not affect his inside.

What a lie that was turning out to be. Everything outside affected how he lived his life inside these four, small, illusionary rooms.

“If you do not have red marks on your wrists from those by the time I am done with you, then you are not trying hard enough to show me your pleasure. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

Yoochun-master smiled as he slid back down his body. “Good boy, but that isn’t really enough, now is it?”

A long dildo pressed against his mouth and Changmin moaned, opening for it. HIs cock pulsed precome onto his stomach as the dildo settled and then Yoochun-muster buckled it around his head.

“Say your safeword,” Yoochun-master demanded, “so I know I can understand it through this gag.”

Changmin used his eyes to pout.

Yoochun-master smiled. “It is just a precaution, Changmin-ah. I plan on playing with you until either you tell me to stop or if I get bored of you and you should know by now that I rarely get bored of you. Say it. Safety is always first, you know that.”

Changmin shut his eyes and tried to talk about the gag. It came out as “efeneetste.” He gagged on the dildo.

Yoochun-master told him to say it again and then scream it. And he nodded. “Good boy. That dildo is going to stay in your throat, so I need to know what your safeword sounds like coming through it. Now.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together before taking a thick cock ring from his pocket. It had a loop on it and Changmin moaned at the idea of all the uses for that loop.

“No coming,” Yoochun-master said, “not even by accident. I plan on doing more than enough to make you come, so you get a cockring today. Thank me.”

Changmin said thank you even though it was muffled.

Yoochun-master stroked his cock a couple of times before latching the cockring at the base. It snugged tightly and Changmin felt his cock throb around it and under it, through it. Yoochun-master gripped his knees and lifted them up. His hand slid to his ankles, and then both of his legs were up, straight, and then pressed against the headboard, next to his hands.

Changmin groaned from the stretch, eyes shut, tears leaking from them.

The soft sash from Changmin’s terrywood robe tied one foot to the frame and then looped through both cuffs at his wrists and tied the other foot to the frame.

“Lovely,” Yoochun-master said and trailed a finger down Changmin’s leg, pausing to tickle his knee.

Changmin shivered, head falling back with a whimper. He was very thankful when Yoochun-master’s tongue followed the same trail. It gave Changmin something to focus on. Something to anticipate. Each leg was licked and bit, and hickys were added to the inside of his knees and down the back of his thighs.

“I will be right back,” Yoochun-master whispered.

Changmin’s eyes shot open and his cry of protest stayed muffled behind the dildo. He gagged again, body lurching from the suddenness.

Yoochun-master smiled and rubbed his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “Trust me. I will be right back. I am only going to the closet to dig through the toy drawer.”

Changmin shut his eyes and nodded.

Yoochun-master pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Such a good boy.”

And as Yoochun-master left the room, he started whistling. Changmin focused on the sound, followed it away from the room, into the closet and it was no longer loud, but still there, showing him that Yoochun-master did not leave. And then it grew closer again, and it was in the room, and Changmin did not have time to panic at being alone because he hadn’t been alone.

He hadn’t been alone since Yoochun-master first walked through the door.

“God, you’re gorgeous, Changmin-ah. It’s a wonder I managed to keep my hands off you for so long.”

Changmin whimpered, body sagging in the bindings, head falling back between his arms. He’d never had his legs and arms stretched so much before. There was a little give, so his knees were slightly bent, just enough that he did not feel like his hips were going to come out of the sockets. But he hoped that Yoochun-master released him soon. He had only used his safe word once. Too many smacks to the face. Too many punches on his side. Too many breaths denied. He had almost passed out.

“So pretty like this.” Yoochun-master ran his hands up Changmin’s legs again. “I have been wanting to touch you since you were thirteen years old, even when you were throwing things and yelling, or being a complete and utter brat. But you were also letting me take care of you and hold you when you were having panic attacks.” Fingers ran up and down his stomach, to his cock and then down to his balls. “There were so many times when I thought about just fucking you, raping you, forcing you open with my cock, leaving you bleeding and crying, but I knew that if I just waited a little, had a little more patience, you’d come to me.” Yoochun-master squeezed his balls, and Changmin moaned behind the gag. “That day when you asked me to touch you, well, I thought I was dreaming.”

Something trailed along the sensitive skin of Changmin’s balls, and then his erection was tugged up, and Yoochun-master chuckled.

“This is a shoelace that I am now wrapping around your balls.”

Changmin’s head shot up and he opened his eyes to look. Vision blurry, he saw the black shoelace go up and around the red skin of his sac. Around each one, between them, looped through the ring on his cock, and then moved down, and looped through the small ring of the plug still inside him, tying everything together. When his cock jerked, the string yanked on his balls, which threatened to pull out the plug,

_tight tight tight tight tight_

And that pulled at the string and then the ring around his cock.

Changmin moaned.

“Do you like it?”

Changmin nodded.

Yoochun-master flicked his balls and Changmin screamed from the suddenness and the sharp pain that sliced up his skin.

“Now, pretty sure just a few moments ago, you left your clothes all over the floor and threw your book to the side without caring how it landed.” Yoochun-master yanked his own belt off, and Changmin moaned, skin flushing in anticipation. “Count them. With your fingers.” He folded the belt, gripping the buckle, and brought the leather down across Changmin’s hip.

Changmin whimpered. When the first quick slap echoed around the room, Changmin unclenched a fist and held up one finger. Difficult with his hands in cuffs, metal cuffs that bit into the skin of his wrists. Too tight. They jangled against the wooden headboard.

The second hit landed across his ass, the third right above it. The fourth went just a tad bit too high and caught his balls and Changmin cried out.

“You are not counting,” Yoochun-master said, and Changmin quickly moved his hand to show four fingers.

The next hit went right across his cock and balls and the pain that shot up Changmin’s skin was almost more than he had ever endured. He felt himself scream, heard it echo around his room, and then another slap landed in the same place, and then another. His head swam and he had a vision of his ceiling, a glass ceiling where someone, lots of someones, watched him writhe and watched him suffer on the bed, and then the ceiling broke and the glass shattered and Changmin’s skin bloomed with red holes that did not bleed and his breath stopped, and the ceiling, the normal one, turned gray and swirly and his body sagged in its bindings.

Yoochun-master chuckled. Above him? Below him? From somewhere.

The plug left his ass, and Changmin whimpered in protest as his body clamped and tightened around nothing. Something dripped to his skin, his body, the plug yanked on his balls. His skin hurt, his head ached, everything felt just perfect.

And then Yoochun-master’s hands gripped his hips and his cock slid into him all the way and that was just about perfect. Changmin would have come right then without all the bindings. Hands and fingers spread through his hair and lips danced over his cheek and neck. He heard Yoochun-master’s voice but not the words. The tone, happy and teasing. Changmin’s chest tightened, tears fell from his eyes. Not in pain, even if everything hurt. But from Yoochun-master, who always seemed to know just what he needed. Even when it came to sex. Especially when it came to sex.

Yoochun-master moved slowly inside him, hands never pausing, sliding over Changmin’s sore _bleeding?_ skin and down his chest, touching his nipples and his muscles. Fingertips teased the curve of his knee and the tips of his toes.

He took out the dildo from his throat and replaced it with his tongue, barely giving Changmin enough time to take a heavy deep breath. His kiss was a frantic fuck of a tongue in his throat. But his hips stayed steady, slow, controlled. Changmin’s own body was not his own and he pulled at his wrists, using the support to attempt to thrust up, meet Yoochun’s movements. A weird aching pain traveled down his arms, and then Yoochun-master stopped, told him to hold still. His fingers were at his ankles, and the sudden release had blood flowing back to his toes and he screamed at the sudden painful feeling and then both legs were hooked at Yoochun-master’s elbows. He shifted and held him and then fucked him, harder, faster, and Changmin screamed out his pleasure, the pain, the perfection through the room. The headboard smacked into the wall, the metal cut into his wrists as he tried again and again to yank his arms down to hold.

He had forgotten about the plug, the shoelace, the cockring, but Yoochun-master suddenly pulled on the string, and it slid against the sensitive skin, leaving a line of pain as it left him, and the cockring was gone.

Yoochun-master’s warm hand replaced it and Changmin felt more than heard Yoochun-master tell him to come. Just in time too. After only a few pumps of his master’s hand, Changmin was screaming, body shaking, and he was coming, releasing and spraying his orgasm all the way up to his face and neck. His lungs tried to work, pulling in air and expelling it in heavy sobs. His entire body shook, muscles cramping.

Yoochun-master released the cuffs and Changmin continued to cry, curled up against Yoochun-master’s chest with his hands running over his skin, pushing into his muscles to relax them. It felt like a panic attack but with pleasure stealing his voice, his movements, his breath. Instead of fear.

There was no fear. Not in Yoochun-master’s arms.

“Good boy,” Yoochun-master whispered. “Such a good boy. Let go, baby. It’s okay to let go.”

Aware of his face pressed to bare skin, Changmin clung to Yoochun-master, arms around his waist, but then he did as he was told, and he let go and sagged boneless to the bed and let himself pass out. Because he was safe, he knew he was safe.

\---

Changmin woke up, practically with a smile on his face, though he did not smile often. He woke up feeling ... relief. Yes, relief, though he was not sure why.

He woke up feeling satisfied. A little sore, but really satisfied.

And he woke up, for the first time, with a feeling of belonging. He did not feel alone, and that was why he smiled.

He woke up and he was not alone.

Blinking, he turned to the side to watch Yoochun-master beside him. Yoochun-master had his eyes shut, though Changmin did not know if he was actually asleep. Yoochun-master was naked, long, wavy, soft black hair a sharp contrast to his hard muscles and pale skin, their bodies close and Changmin shifted the few tiny spaces to press their skin together.

Yoochun-master took a deep breath and moved, rolled to his side, arms around Changmin’s body, and pulled him close. Changmin went and ended up with his face pressed against Yoochun-master’s chest, an arm around his middle, legs easily shifting to wrap together. Naked. Head to toe. Sleeping. Touching. Holding.

Changmin did not sleep, but smiled and smiled and smiled until Yoochun-master woke up. He smiled at the sleepy kiss Yoochun-master gave him. He smiled at the soft touch on his ass. He smiled at the whispered command to roll over and smiled when he got into position and let Yoochun-master fuck away their erections. He smiled through their bath together. He smiled through the massage. He smiled when Yoochun-master spread ointment over the cuts and bruises at his wrists and ankles, cooing at him and calling him a good boy. He smiled when Yoochun-master fed him dinner from his fingers, and afterward, he smiled as Yoochun-master trailed the welts from the belt with is tongue and smiled when Yoochun-master ate out his ass and fingered him and fucked him while he was bent over the dining room table.

And he smiled when Yoochun-master did not tuck him into bed and leave that night, but stripped and crawled in with him and held him tightly until they both fell asleep.


	4. Nothing Nice

Changmin sank a little deeper into the water, wet skin sliding over the man behind him. His head landed perfectly against Yoochun-master’s shoulder. Yoochun-master ran the practically useless washcloth up his chest. His fingers followed, pressing against Changmin’s sore nipples. His master had introduced him to the painful joys of nipple clamps the night before.

“Something to prop your precious head upon,” Yoochun-master mused.

Changmin flushed at the memory, more than six months ago. Yoochun-master had told him that even though Changmin had told him to leave, he only went out the bathroom door. It was his job, his duty, his honor, to take care of the Crown Prince.

“Is that all?” Changmin had demanded from his knees, eyes flashing with annoyance.

His master had chuckled, rubbed his thumb under Changmin’s eye, and said, “Of course not, Changmin-ah. It is because I like you, too.”

Like. It felt strange. Changmin liked this, lying in the tub with his master. He liked reading and studying and learning and verbally sparring and challenging Yoochun-master’s intellect. Yoochun-master usually won, but he learned so much about politics and science and philosophy from Yoochun-master. He liked food.

But there was one word, one idea, that Changmin did not want to ask Yoochun-master about. He wanted to know about love. He wanted to know what it felt like. He wanted to know if that was why his chest tightened so much when Yoochun-master touched him, smiled at him, held him. He wanted to know if that is why he felt on the verge of tears whenever he thought of Yoochun-master leaving him forever.

Something buzzed across the room, and Yoochun-master sighed.

Changmin answered the sigh and reluctantly shifted up, bending his knees. Yoochun-master ran his hands over Changmin’s back and shoulders and then used his shoulders to stand up. Unable to resist, Changmin turned his head and opened his mouth with Yoochun-master’s cock as the goal.

He managed a tongue on the soft tip and then Yoochun-master’s phone buzzed again. He frowned over at it, and then glanced down at Changmin who had managed to get his cock into his mouth and was sucking softly at the hardening length. With a soft hand on his cheek and rubbing a finger under his eye, Yoochun-master said, “Finish washing up, give yourself an enema so I can suck and lick at your pretty clean asshole, and then go to your study, just in your robe. I am too impatient to wait to take clothes off.”

“Yes, master,” Changmin said after letting go of his erection. “In position?”

Yoochun-master smirked. “Yes. On top of your desk.”

Changmin’s hard cock throbbed. “Yes, master.”

“Such a good boy.”

The phone buzzed again. Worry sped Yoochun’s movements. He grabbed a robe and his pile of clothes and left the bathroom.

Changmin huffed at being alone in the tub again, but he had his orders and he was just as impatient at Yoochun-master. He crawled out of the tub and to the cabinet with the products he needed. He was no longer embarrassed at having an enema, he was actually quite grateful for them considering how often Yoochun-master made him eat come out of his ass.

While he curled up and waited for the enema, he listened to Yoochun’s muted voice in the other room. Yoochun-master was yelling. There was no way to hear much of anything with the door shut as it was unless he was yelling.

Worried, Changmin shut his eyes. Yoochun-master had promised over and over that he would not leave Changmin.

Changmin trusted him. He had to, or he’d start going crazy again. Keep going crazy? Changmin did not know. But he was not afraid like he used to be.

After the enema was done and he crawled to the shower to rinse and wash again, Changmin stood up to put on a robe. He left the bathroom, into the bedroom, and into the study. He stood up, ready to climb upon his desk when the door opened, the forbidden door, and someone who was not his master walked through it.

Changmin inhaled sharply, stepped back, and pulled the robe closed around his body. He did not breathe again until Yoochun-master stepped in behind the man. His master was dressed, impeccable as always, his long wet hair was pulled back and wrapped up in a bun. It was the only sign of his hurry.

The other man wore, not a suit like Yoochun-master’s, but a pair of loose white trousers, a white shirt with the Korean flag stitched on one side. Over it all was a bright red jacket belted around the middle. His hair was black, cut short above his ears, and he looked at Changmin with no emotion on his beautiful, flawless face. He had gotten so used to seeing emotion.

Changmin did not breathe.

And then the man in white and red put his fist to the Korean flag on his clothes and bowed, completely in half. “Good afternoon, your highness.”

Changmin swallowed, cleared his throat, and managed. “Hello.”

The man straightened. “He is not ready to go.”

Yoochun-master rolled his eyes. “You interrupted a bath, remember?”

“It has been almost a half hour since then.”

Yoochun-master said something in reply, but the only word Changmin focused on was “go.” ... Go. Go where? Go? Leave? Go ... where ... what?

Yoochun-master was suddenly in front of him, fingers on his chin. He said something, and Changmin followed the movement of his lips and then Yoochun-master smacked him, just lightly, and it was the other man’s cry of “Park Yoochun, that is the king!” that had Changmin snapping back to himself.

“Go?” Changmin whispered.

Yoochun-master rubbed a thumb under his eye. “You father has been murdered, shot, in the middle of the street, most of his guard with him. The men who did it have been apprehended, but we have to leave now. You must be sworn in as king at the palace.”

Changmin shook his head. “No, no, no, no, I can’t ... I can’t ... you can’t ... go. Please. No. Please.” He could not breathe. His chest burned with fire. His eyes rolled up, and Yoochun-master slapped him again. Harder.

“Listen to me. Listen to me, Changmin-ah.”

“Park Yoochun!” the other said again, but it was far away, muffled, whispered.

Changmin tried to focus.

“Breathe. Come on. Inhale. Come on. Breathe with me. Inhale.”

Changmin tried to obey. It took a long time.

“What did I tell you just yesterday?”

Changmin swallowed.

“Answer me.”

“You ... not leave. You won’t ...”

“I will not leave you. That promise is as good at this moment, even better, even stronger, than it was yesterday. I will not leave you.” He turned his head to Jaejoong. “Wait here. We’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Yoochun-”

Yoochun-master ignored him and pulled Changmin back into his bedroom. He slammed the door and pushed Changmin against it and kissed him, tongue into his mouth and his fingers wrapped around Changmin’s cock, stroking roughly. And he kept whispering, “I will not leave you. I will not leave you. I will not leave you.”

Changmin shook his head. “You won’t leave me.”

“I will not leave you.”

Changmin shut his eyes, unsurprised at the tears on his cheeks. “Okay ... oh ... kay.”

Yoochun-master kissed him again. Quick, short. “Good boy.” He spun around, left Changmin at the door, and went into the closet. Changmin stayed there, hands flat to the wood. His robe had fallen open and the cooler air prickled on his skin. He shut his eyes, still crying, but no longer light headed, about to pass out.

Yoochun-master gripped his erection again. “Such a gorgeous, good boy. Sexy. I need to make this easy on you, okay? So listen. Are you listening?”

Changmin nodded.

“This is to help you concentrate, keep you aware, give you a goal, something to focus on.” The familiar pinch of a cockring rolled down his erection, gripping the base tightly. “You are not allowed to take this off. No one is but me, you understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good boy. I will take it off you later. I promise because I will not leave you. Now, turn around. Changmin did without even opening his eyes. The robe fell from his body and he felt Yoochun-master kick it away. His ass was spread and Yoochun-master moaned. “God, I wanted to eat out your ass tonight, but another day.” Lube dripped down his cleft and with no prep (though none was really needed), Yoochun-master slid a buttplut into him. “You are not to remove this, at all. I will do it when I remove the cockring. Maybe.”

Changmin shivered.

“Now. Clothes.”

Changmin let Yoochun-master dress him, let him kneel at his feet and put his boxers and pants on. He had chosen a slate-gray suit, one that Yoochun-master said made his eyes shimmer. And then, in complete contrast, the chosen shirt was red, a shocking shade that matched the tones of the suit perfectly.

“Delicious,” Yoochun-master said, after keeping just two buttons undone. “I will put a tie on you when I have to, but not now. Show off those hickys.”

Changmin shivered.

“Let’s go. Everything here will be moved to your rooms in the palace before the end of the day, so don’t worry about that. Now, we need to get you into the palace and safe and sworn in.”

They headed to the door, but Changmin grabbed his hand, and Yoochun-master turned back to him with a questioning eyebrow raised.

Changmin pulled their bodies together and hugged Yoochun-master tightly. “Thank you, master. Thank you for ...”

Yoochun-master pulled away and swallowed roughly. “You’re welcome, your highness.”

Changmin made a face, and Yoochun-master chuckled. “Get used to it. I cannot call you Changmin-ah in front of other people. And you cannot call me master.”

Changmin nodded in understanding. He did not want Yoochun-master to get mad at him and be taken away.

Yoochun-master pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Come. Your kingdom is waiting for you.”

Changmin swallowed down his panic, and kept his head high as he followed Yoochun-master from the room. The other man stood by the door still and he lifted an eyebrow as his eyes traveled down Changmin’s body.

“Yoochun-”

“He is the king and can do what he wants,” Yoochun-master said immediately. “I only give him that and obey him, as should you, Defense Commissioner.”

The other stuck his tongue out childishly and it made Changmin smile.

“This is Jaejoong, Kim Jaejoong,” Yoochun-master said. “He is the leader of your army and the enforcer of your laws.”

Still smiling, Changmin rolled his eyes. “I know what the Defense Commissioner does, Yoochun-nim.”

Kim Jaejoong-shi laughed. “I like this kid.”

Yoochun-master smiled softly at him. “So do I.”

“I can see that. I doubt he gave himself those hickys, or that erection.”

Changmin blushed, but Yoochun-master just punched Kim Jaejoong-shi in the shoulder and then the door opened, and he turned back, looking at Changmin, and Changmin took a very deep breath before following him out of the four very small rooms.

He stopped in the hallway, breathing in the different air that did not smell different. The walls were painted the same color, the carpet was the same. Room number five.

The only thing different was the elevator, and the man standing outside of it. He wore an army uniform, patterns of gray and blue and black. He bowed immediately and said, “Your highness.”

Changmin swallowed.

“Kim Junsu,” Yoochun-master said. “Your personal bodyguard. Where you go, he goes, where you stay, he stays.”

Changmin nodded.

Kim Junsu-shi was shorter than him, but very well muscled front and back. His legs and arms looked strong. His core probably the same. There was a gun, a knife, and a club all at his waist. When he straightened and smiled, the cute face and the bright eyes did not go with the deadly impression.

“Kim Junsu is a triple blackbelt in TaeKwonDo and a double blackbelt in Jujitsu.”

“Slacker,” Kim Jaejoong muttered, and Changmin let out laughter that he quickly muffled, but Kim Junsu-shi laughed loudly, the noise echoing in the hallway.

“He knows about six hundred and eighty-two ways to kill someone, so do not piss him off.”

The elevator door opened and the three of them ushered him inside. Protection.

“The door to this building is swarming with media,” Kim Junsu-shi said. “They all want the first picture of the new king.”

Changmin paled and leaned against the wall, trying to control his breathing. He timed it with the _tight relax tight relax tight relax_ from the plug in his ass. It kept him calm. Focused.

Yoochun-master leaned in close and said, “Good boy.”

He flushed, but the other two either did not hear or just did not react. But Changmin figured it was the first. The camaraderie between the three meant that had they heard, they’d be teasing Yoochun-master right about now.

“Here is the plan,” Kim Junsu-shi said, rubbing his hands together. "I will go first, straight to the limo, open the door, and Yoochun will stand behind the king while he climbs into the limo. Jaejoong will follow them and I will climb in last. The driver knows to leave as soon as the back door shuts. My guards have the street cleared. The windows are bulletproof.”

“And your head?” Kim Jaejoong-shi asked.

“Smarter than yours, Defense Commissioner.”

Changmin snorted.

They looked over at him, but said nothing. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. The floor was tile. The front of the building covered in thick glass windows. And beyond those windows were people. So many people. No longer little dots. Full people. Tall, strong, swarming. A channel led from the door to the people, ending at the door of the black car.

But people. So many people.

Changmin’s breath sped up.

“Calm, your highness,” Yoochun-master said almost against his ear. “They will not touch you. They may shout things at you and question you, but they will not touch you. It is forbidden. Only I am allowed to touch you. Your body belongs to me.”

Changmin nodded and then they were moving, with Kim Junsu-shi in front of him and Yoochun-master right next to him, and Kim Jaejoong-shi behind him.

The noise. So much noise. So many voices. So many different timbres and shouts and so many people. But it was the air on his face, the air on his skin, the smell of the city, the combination of too much at once. His rooms never smelt of anything and the air smelled of everything, and he took deep breaths of it, face unguarded and a small smirk on his lips. He tilted his head back, and felt the sun on his face. The actual warmth of the sun. The warmth, hotter than the perfect temperature in his rooms. He wanted to swim in water not pumped through pipes. He wanted to walk in the rain and let it fall on his face. He wanted to play in the snow.

And then he was at the door, the gaping maw of black in the car, and he climbed in, and Yoochun-master followed him, gripping his ass out of sight. The other two were quick to follow and the door shut and the car sped off, tires squealing against the curb.

The limo smelled weird. Flowery, but fake.

Someone snorted.

“What?” Yoochun-master asked.

“I have never known a king to throw his head back and smile like that.”

Changmin looked over at Kim Jaejoong-shi.

“A king can do whatever he wants,” Yoochun-master said.

Kim Jaejoong-shi rolled his eyes.

“Why did you do that, your highness?” Kim Junsu-shi asked.

Changmin tilted his head to the side and stared at the city, buildings and people rushing by. Sirens cut through the air. He smiled. “It smelled good.”

Another snort.

A hand settled on his thigh and squeezed, and Changmin looked at it and then at Yoochun-master.

“Here is what is going to happen in the next hour,” Yoochun-master said. “Pay attention, memorize every step I tell you. Count them.”

Changmin nodded.

“We are going to the palace. You will be moved directly to the king’s office. There will be three cameras there, recording and sending a livestream video that will show you being sworn in. You will be sworn in by the head of the parliament and by Jaejoong. You remember what you have to say?”

Changmin smirked. “Of course, Yoochun-nim.”

“How many steps is that?”

“Three, Yoochun-nim.”

“Good boy.”

Kim Junsu-shi guffawed and Kim Jaejoong-shi said master’s name again. He ignored them both.

“You will kneel, you will be crowned, you will sign the promissory note that gives your allegiance to Korea, you will sign the Korean Declaration, you will sign the paper that declares you are the king. Count.”

“Eight,” Changmin said.

Yoochun-master nodded. “And then you will be taken to the main hall of the private quarters. There you will be married. Your bride’s name is Seohyun. She is eighteen years old and from one of the noble families of the parliament. Your wedding will be short. There are no vows, no promises except from her because you are the king, and she only lives to serve you. That said, you will take care of her. You will immediately move to the master bedroom of the private quarters and you will fuck her.”

Changmin swallowed roughly. “What?”

“How many?”

“Thir-thirteen.”

“Good boy. Your bride is a virgin and you will not hurt her. You will not just spread her legs and slam yourself into her, you understand?”

Changmin shook his head. “I don’t know ...”

“I know. That is why I am telling you. You know the parts of a woman, correct?”

“Of course.”

“You know what it feels like to have one, two and then three fingers inside you?”

Changmin blushed, very aware of the audience. But he nodded.

“You do the same to her. You will use your mouth on her clit to pleasure her and make her come, you will use your fingers inside her to prepare her as much as possible, you will use your words to keep her relaxed and happy. She is going to be terrified. You understand me?”

Changmin nodded.

“How many?”

“Fifteen.”

“Try again.”

Changmin tilted his head and then realized that each one of those was a step. Mouth, fingers, words. They were not options, but requirements. “Eighteen.”

Yoochun-master nodded. He dug out a clear packet of lube from his pocket. “You will use lube, not just your spit, not just her blood. This is going to hurt her and you will not hurt her.”

Changmin shook his head. “I will not hurt her.”

“Good boy. When you are through, you will return to the king’s study. There, Jaejoong will give you a conclusive report on the happenings in our country. You will read it, you will study it. You will eat dinner when I bring it to you. You will go back to your wife and fuck her again when I tell you to. You will sleep with your wife. You will wake up with her in the morning. You will fuck her again. It is imperative that she is pregnant as soon as possible. Count.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Repeat them.”

Changmin took a deep breath and repeated all the steps. Someone whistled in awe.

Yoochun-master smiled at him. He touched Changmin’s cheek, rubbed his hand under his eye, and said, “Good boy. After that, I will bring you more instructions.”

Changmin nodded. “Where will you be?”

Yoochun-master’s smile widened. “Where I always have been. Right by your side.”

“But ... what?”

“Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not, but what ... I don’t ...” Changmin swallowed and finally had the courage to ask, “Who are you?”

“My official title?” Yoochun-master asked.

Changmin nodded.

“I am your personal assistant. I assist you in whatever you need.”

Changmin shut his eyes in relief. “Whatever I need.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“Yes.”

Changmin opened his eyes and stared at him. “You will not leave me.”

Yoochun-master smiled. “I will not leave you.”

Changmin nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, his life went crazy. But he stayed focused on Yoochun-master’s instructions. Ticking them off in his head as the day continued. The comforting _tight relax tight relax tight relax_ around the plug gave him something to focus on. Something to steady his breath.

The only deviation in the instructions was in the private rooms, just before he went to the master bedroom, when Yoochun-master pulled him into a side room, slammed him against the door, and growled a kiss into his mouth while removing the cockring. Two strokes of his hand had him seeing stars, but Yoochun-master pulled away, straightened his clothes and then pushed him back into the hall. He staggered, pleasure suddenly thrumming through him, and as he walked into the room, saw his pretty wife naked on the bed, he realized that Yoochun-master had not removed the buttplug.

A reminder of his master while he was with someone else.

But he did as he was told. He was nice and gentle. He had two fingers inside her and his mouth on her clit when she screamed out her very first orgasm. She pulled on his hair, and he loved that a lot, and because Yoochun-master did not tell him how long exactly he had to pleasure his wife, he gave her a second one, and she smelled different and tasted different and everything was so different being in charge of sex. But he did as he was supposed to and pressed into her a gently as he could. It still hurt her. She still bled, but she was smiling up at him, eyes tight with pain, and he smiled down at her, and forced himself to come quickly so he did not cause her any unnecessary pain.

Just like his master ordered.

\---

Changmin woke up confused and light headed. Where was he? Why did his bed feel so light? Had he fallen asleep in a chair?

A body moved next to him and he turned his head, frowning at the soft curve of neck and shoulder, the long brown hair that wasn’t dark enough. He lifted a hand and trailed it over the sloping shoulder of his wife. She shifted in her sleep.

“Changmin-ah,” a familiar voice whispered.

Changmin turned quickly and then winced because he did not want Seohyun to wake up.

Yoochun-master chuckled. “Good morning.”

Changmin sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He was excited to see Yoochun-master, but these days, he brought more work to do than good news. Changmin missed his life. He actually missed his four rooms. He missed having Yoochun-master all to himself. “Good morning.”

“Up, come on.” He held out a bright blue robe.

Changmin stood up and turned around, arms out. He let Yoochun-master drape the robe over his shoulders.

“You are very good at obeying orders,” he said and spun Changmin around to secure the sash at his waist.

“You are very good at giving them.”

Yoochun-master chuckled. “Follow me.”

Changmin walked after him, frowning at another inch that separated their heights. He kept growing. Yoochun-master led him from the master bedroom, through the opulent dining room, through a sitting room, and out into a short hallway. Changmin’s head spun from all the corners and doorways, trying to figure out where he was. Yoochun-master had given him a map a couple days before, and he was studying it, but Changmin found it difficult to memorize without actually walking the hallways. And he would not have a chance to do that until he impregnated his wife.

He looked over his shoulder and frowned.

“What?” Yoochun-master asked.

“Does Seohyun have a personal assistant?”

“I’d hope not. She belongs to you.”

“So what does she do all day when I’m not there?”

Yoochun-master frowned at him. “When she is pregnant, she will have her own studies.”

“About what?”

“That is not of your concern. She is only your wife.”

“It should be. She is my only wife.”

Yoochun-master shook his head and opened a door. He led Changmin into another set of rooms. The first room was a combination of a sitting room and a bedroom. The large bed sat upon a dais at the far corner. The windows stood open, cool air blowing through the room.

Yoochun-master pointed at a chair.

Changmin did not sit.

“Sit.”

“Why are we here?”

“These are your private rooms. The only way to get to them is the way we came. There is also a secret route that is only used for emergencies to get you out of the palaces.”

“And what of Seohyun? Does she have private rooms?”

“She does not need them.”

“Why not?”

“Because she is only the queen! Damnit, Changmin, I thought you studied this.”

“I did. Doesn’t mean I agree with it or understand why. So I am questioning it. As I have been taught.”

Yoochun-master rolled his eyes. “You are not going to change that. She is only the bearer of your heir. That is her sole purpose.”

“And yet, you told me to be nice to her. You told me to pleasure her, make her come, and not be selfish in the bedroom. You also told me to talk to her and get to know her so she did not feel burdened. I’ve spent five days getting to know my wife, so you will have to forgive me for caring about her safety and her mentality.”

Yoochun-master turned his back. “You cannot change things.”

Changmin stared at his strong back, at the flowing line of black hair pulled into a queue with a long bright red ribbon. “Then what is the point of being king?”

Yoochun-master did not reply.

“I want her to have her own servant. There are plenty of maids in the palace. Find one to watch her, talk to her, finger her and lick at her clit when I’m not there.”

Yoochun-master hands balled into fists at his side. “As you wish, your highness.”

Changmin frowned and took a step toward him before stopping. He looked at the chair and then took a very deep breath. He sat in the chair, fingers curled into the padded arms. It was a very comfortable chair. Yoochun-master glanced at him and then moved away, out of the room. But Changmin heard him in the next room. When he returned, there was food on a tray and Yoochun-master brought it to the small table in front of Changmin. He kneeled between them, and then fed Changmin pieces of fruit and bread for breakfast.

He missed the feel of Yoochun-master’s fingers on his lips. He missed the look in his eyes, but it was different and weird and Changmin did not like it. He stopped Yoochun-master’s arm on the next bite and then slid to the floor, knees hitting the luxurious rug. His robe fell open, and Changmin gripped his own knees.

Yoochun-master pondered him for a few moments and then he moved, sat in the chair and Changmin smiled and let himself be fed from Yoochun’s fingers while he kneeled on the floor.

“I will be in a whole lot of trouble if someone comes in here and sees this.”

“They will not, though, will they?”

Yoochun-master shook his head. “Only Jaejoong can get in here in an emergency.”

Changmin nodded. He looked more closely at the room, the way the two spaces were divided by furniture instead of walls. Near the bed was a door to a bathroom, and on the other side was another door that was shut. Between them, the bed and the shut door, was another long rug. Changmin went there, on his hands and knees, the blue robe riding up over his ass. He turned on the rug, facing the bed, and put his head down and gripped his ankles. The rug was as soft as it looked. It smelled of synthetic fibers. Nothing too good. He’d have to have it sprayed with something if he wanted to keep his head down on it on a daily basis.

The position came naturally, and Changmin sighed, relaxed and waited. Waited for his master.

In his place.

“The thought of you with that girl makes me very, very angry.”

Changmin knew it did. Yoochun-master did not hide his ire from Changmin well. Others may not have noticed, but he was Changmin’s master. Changmin had learned to read his face and moods.

“You have too many things to do today,” Yoochun-master whispered, rubbing his hands up and down his ass and thighs.

Changmin opened an eye, looked back at him, and smirked. “Is there any reason why I cannot be shifting with a sore ass while I do those many things?”

“Cheeky.”

Changmin wiggled his ass. “Horny.”

“You do not have permission to come.”

Changmin pouted but shut his eyes. “Yes, master.”

“How many times did you come with that girl? How many times did you come without me telling you to come?”

Changmin had counted. He knew the exact number but instead, he said, “Too many to count.”

Yoochun-master growled and started spanking him with his hand.

Changmin’s favorite. With every spank, with every smack, Changmin moaned and jerked forward. He hoped that the carpet put a pretty red mark on his cheek to go with his sore and bruised ass.

\---

Later in the day, after Changmin had sat through meetings with a large plug up his bruised ass and the familiar tug of pain on his nipples, he went into the private quarters and found a girl kneeling and rubbing his wife’s feet. He smiled at them both and laughed when they both attempted to kneel before him and stammered a hello. He waved away their attempts and told them to continue as they were.

He went to his wife first, hand soft on her head, fingers running through her hair. It was different than Yoochun-master’s, fruity smelling instead of spicy. He preferred Yoochun-master’s, but his wife was very pretty.

He did not touch the girl but asked her name, and she said it was “Sunny,” and Changmin smiled before adding, “Thank you for taking care of my wife.” The girl blushed and nodded and Changmin drew his wife to her feet and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, against him, fitting with him in a way that was different than how Yoochun-master fit against him. They went right to the bed, right to the fucking, naked and sweaty. She was not pregnant. Not yet. But Changmin did not mind too much. It was a necessity. And it felt much better with the memory of his master’s hand on his ass and the stinging reminder of control, because once again, Changmin was coming without Yoochun-master’s permission and he would be pushed to the bed, maybe thrown over Yoochun-master’s lap, until even more bruises molted his skin and his ass. With that as his reward, Changmin had no problems at all doing his duty as the king.

It was his rightful place after all, and only Yoochun-master knew that behind closed doors, Changmin much preferred a different right, a different role, and a different way of life. Yoochun-master was very good at putting Changmin in his place.


	5. Epilogue: Everything

**_14 months later..._ **

Changmin decided that if he had known that being king meant fighting for every little thing he wanted, he never would have left his four rooms on the top of the tower. Every decision he made was questioned, reworded, thrown back at him, confused, twisted. His words were taken out of context. His actions scrutinized by the media he supposedly controlled and by the Parliament who resented his control.

It took months to sway the Parliament, months of word games and orders. Months of almost losing his temper.

Months of _tight relax tight relax tight relax_. He learned very early on that having either a cockring, a buttplug, or nipple clamps helped him keep his head, helped him focus, helped him weave words back at the politicians that tried to fight him. It was not as difficult as it could have been though, as Yoochun-master continually told him. The head of parliament was Jung Yunho, one of Kim Jaejoong’s childhood friends, and Yoochun-master told him once that he was sure the two of them were fucking. Jung Yunho usually agreed with Changmin, but it was the other twelve that they had to convince.

He was raised believing the king had ultimate control, and he did, but he just fought for it every single day.

Fought for it every day and let himself sink into his master’s hands every single night.

He fought for so many things that his own father never bothered about. He read his father’s daily notes on everything from the smallest choice of the color of the new paint on his walls to the decision of letting people out of their country who were not exactly Korean. But his father did not care about Changmin’s mother. His mother was discussed two weeks after his father’s coronation. “The wife is not yet pregnant.” The next time she was mentioned was two weeks after. “The wife has finally conceived. It had better be a boy.” And then, “The baby is a boy, which means my wife has fulfilled her purpose.”

Eight months later, the first mention of Changmin said nothing about his mother. “The heir was born and will be protected as before.”

His mother was never mentioned again, never mentioned by name. He had no idea who she was.

He vowed to change that, and even Yoochun-master fought him on that decision. But as always, he won, so when Seohyun’s very first child ended up being a girl, the baby was not “erased,” but born nine months after Changmin had been crowned king. He allowed his wife to name their daughter Soomin.

He did not write out his ledgers with “the wife.” He called her by name and even paused once to fill an entire page of her face. He drew pretty well, Yoochun-nim had told him. And his daughter had a special page, just for her, describing her face and her eyes and the way her nose scrunched just before she cried. Every week, he added something new in there about his wife, about Sunny, about his daughter, the first time she smiled, the first time she laughed, the first time she ate something not sucked from her mother’s breast. He liked to re-read it and read it to Seohyun (who had never learned to read because it was not her place, but Sunny knew how, and was slowly teaching her).

Yoochun-master did not approve at first about his daughter, but it was only because it meant that after the princess’ birth, Changmin had to fuck his wife again.

Changmin did not mind, and the punishments afterward were more of rewards to Changmin anyway.

Changmin’s second child was a son. Changmin fought to keep his wife out of the heir’s tower for her own protection. Junsu assigned her bodyguards instead. He refused to let his son grow as he did. He had almost gone crazy. He did not want to risk his own son’s mentality on whether or not he had a “Yoochun-master” as his own.

And unlike during her first pregnancy, Seohyun wanted and needed to be touched and fucked. Sunny did a pretty good job with toys, mouth, and fingers, but it wasn’t the same, according to Seohyun, so he bent her over her favorite divan, took her from behind, fingers in her ass, and gave her more orgasms in the first four months than she knew what to do with.

Of course, because he wasn’t actually trying to get Seohyun pregnant, he himself was not allowed to come, ordered not to, and Changmin did not mind that at all. He stayed hard and aching, cockrings digging into his flesh, while his wife came again and again. And afterward, depending on how completely angry his master was, Yoochun-master kept him from coming for hours longer.

Yoochun-master was jealous, though Changmin had no idea why. He fucked and begged and submitted to Yoochun-master way more than he joined his wife in bed.

Maybe it was the same reason why Changmin grew annoyed when he saw his master laughing and sitting with Kim Jaejoong or Kim Junsu. Jealousy was an ugly thing. He did not like to share. He grew up never having to share anything.

One night, almost five months into his wife’s second pregnancy, Changmin left her in bed, left her to Sunny to clean up or get distracted. He pressed a kiss to Seohyun’s forehead and said goodnight to both of them. He went into his own private rooms. He had not won with securing Seohyun her own rooms, so Changmin started calling their private quarters just Seohyun’s quarters. She spent way more time there than he did. He spent way more time in his quarters with Yoochun-master.

When he arrived at his rooms, his master was not there, which only meant he had to wait, and that was okay. Waiting made the anticipation worse. Waiting made the need to come worse.

He did not shower. He did not dress. He kneeled on the length of rug from the bed to the closet and he waited in position.

_tight relax tight relax_

Changmin centered his breathing. Even though his cock was restrained, a thin stream of precome dripped from the tip, breaking when his stomach muscles twitched, jerking his cock up to smack against his skin. He started sweating.

The door opened, and his master laughed, though the noise was combined with Jaejoong’s laughter too. He flushed, not really expecting Yoochun-master to bring someone in, but then again, Changmin was not usually naked and in position without Yoochun-master ordering him that way.

He did not move just breathed a bit faster. _tightrelaxtightrelaxtightrelax_

“I fucking knew it,” Jaejoong said.

“Shut up. On your knees, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin tightened all his muscles and lifted his upper body from the carpet. He ended up sitting back mostly, ass not quite touching the ground, body supported by his arms, hands still gripping his knees.

“You are going to be in so much trouble if anyone finds out about this.”

Yoochun-master scoffed. “Changmin-ah, why do I do what I do for you?”

“Because you are my master.”

Jaejoong made a noise of disbelief.

“And why am I your master?”

Changmin turned his head and instead of looking at Yoochun-master, he looked at Jaejoong. “Because I want you to be my master.”

Jaejoong rolled his eyes. “Are you insane?”

Yoochun-master opened his mouth to answer, but Changmin beat him to it. “Not anymore.”

His master chuckled. “I told you what he was like, Jaejoong. I told you over and over that he had to get out of there. Being raised in a room like that is no way to raise anyone. Especially not a teenager whose biggest fear is dying alone.”

Changmin frowned, but he had no chance to snap at his master for saying that. Yoochun-master gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Changmin winced at the pull and felt tears in his eyes.

“What are you doing in here, Changmin-ah? I quite distinctly heard your wife screaming her way to an orgasm in her bedroom.”

“Another one?” Changmin asked with a smirk. “I thought I’d given her enough.”

Yoochun-master actually growled.

“If you want a taste, I’m sure my mouth and dick still taste like her.”

Changmin heard Jaejoong snort out laughter, but his hair was pulled, a palm sliced across his face, and then his mouth was open and the comforting and much more alluring and appetizing taste of Yoochun-master’s cock slammed into his throat.

Changmin gagged just once, broke the position, hands lifting to steady himself, and then he remembered and put them back on his ankles.

Master growled in annoyance, and Changmin anticipated the punishment to come. Master gripped his hair even tightly, thrusts going faster, growls turning to words that Changmin knew that Yoochun-master did not actually mean. He hated sharing. Changmin hated sharing too. Master’s grumbles faded with the lack of breath. Changmin breathed and choked from the onslaught, but it was too difficult to focus on Master’s pleasure and his breathing, so he picked Master’s pleasure. His head went light, his body swaying. Master held him in place with his fingers tangled in Changmin’s hair. His cock pressed inside his mouth, his face to the front of Master’s shirt. Over and over.

It was his throat that kept his attention, kept his sanity. _tight relax tight relax tight relax_

When Master pulled away, Changmin whined, mouth open, begging for more. He did not realize that Master was through until come splattered all over his face. He tried to move forward, swallow his cock while he shuddered through his orgasm, but Master held him still until he was through, and then he used both hands to spread his release over Changmin’s face, into his hair, and down his neck. It stung in his eyes.

“Get the smell of her off you.”

Changmin smiled, loopy and content.

“This is not good,” Jaejoong said.

Changmin had forgotten about him.

“First rule,” Master said, smacking his hand to the mess on Changmin’s cheek.

“Safety.”

“What is your safe word?”

“Defenestrate.”

“Tell Jaejoong why you picked that word.”

Changmin looked over at Jaejoong, at the man who gave him advice on the military, the man he respected and who respected him in turn because Jaejoong was loyal to the king, just as his entire family had been his entire life.

“I picked that word because I couldn’t actually throw myself out a window.”

Jaejoong face held no emotion, but Changmin knew he was thinking on that. So he continued, “I could not break the windows. I could not sink into a tub long enough to drown. There was nothing sharp enough to cut into my wrists. There was no medication or cleaning supplies or anything that I could use to poison myself. And there was nowhere that I could twist up a contraption to choke myself. And even if I could, Master was always there anyway. He would not let me. The only thing I wanted to do was escape. Master gave that to me.”

Jaejoong crossed his arms.

“Satisfied?” Master asked.

Jaejoong snorted. “With what?”

“That explanation.”

“Barely.”

“Good enough. Get out.”

Changmin whined and pulled his head back, arching into the grip that Master still had on his hair.

“You want him to watch, Changmin-ah?”

Changmin opened his eyes and smiled. The come was drying on his face, itching and uncomfortable. “I want him to watch how much you please me.”

Yoochun-master licked his lips. “Please you? You are not going to be allowed to come for a very long time.”

“I know. That pleases me greatly.”

“Very well.” Master turned to his friend. Changmin looked at Master. “Stay or go. He needs to be punished.”

Changmin’s knees dragged over the rug, pulling it out of place as Yoochun-master yanked him across the room. He cried out and felt his hair tear, and found himself facedown on the table.

Changmin smiled, spread his arms and legs, and let his master use him.

\---

Sometimes Changmin woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of being in a box too small, a glass room with everyone in his life on the other side of the walls, or Yoochun-master dying.

And then Yoochun-master shifted in bed beside him, and Changmin relaxed because it was only a dream.

His body ached. His head swam a bit. The handcuffs had left cuts on his wrists and ankles. The smallest pain twisted over his nipples at the brush of the sheets on his skin. Master had punished him for a long time. But his muscles were not too sore. His body was well-pleasured. He’d come three times once Master gave him permission.

Master took very good care of him before, during, and after sex.

He propped up on an elbow and ran his finger down Master’s shoulder and up to his neck. A few minutes later, Master’s back heaved with a breath and he slowly woke up.

Changmin smiled at the disgruntled face glaring at him in the dim light. The sun was on its way up, spreading dawn through the city. Changmin’s curtains were open. The dull glow turned everything blue and gray.

“What?” Master asked, voice deep and gravelly from sleep.

“May I ask something of you, Yoochun-master?

Master smiled. “Now? Can’t it wait until we’re actually awake?”

“You are awake. I am awake.”

Master huffed. “You know you can ask anything of me.”

“Tell me what love means.”

Master tilted his head in thought. “You know what it means.”

Changmin huffed. “That is not--”

Master chuckled. “Changmin-ah. You know what love means. I’ve caught you reading about it and pondering it. Why is this important enough that you have woken me before the sun?”

“I did not mean to wake you, and you always know when I need you, so it’s your own fault for being awake before the sun.”

“Not the point.”

Changmin huffed. “I do not understand what love is. The definition is easy to recite. But the definition, unlike some things, does not explain the emotion.”

“Do you think you are in love?” Yoochun-master asked.

“I do not know. That is why I am asking you.”

Yoochun-master shook his head. “I do not want to lay here and talk about what you may or may not be feeling for your wife.”

Changmin stared at him, eyes wide, and then he laughed. “My wife? You think I’m asking because I’m in love with Seohyun?”

Yoochun-master stared at him. “Aren’t you? You care for her more than any king has ever cared for his wife.”

“And I have explained,” Changmin said, “that is because I was taught to take care of people. I was taught to respect life. I was taught to provide for those that may not have as much as I have. But that does not mean I love her. Have you ever been in love, Master?”

Yoochun-master sighed deeply, roughly, the noise a mixture of exasperation and ... fear. Maybe. But Yoochun-master had never been afraid of anything. “Everyone has been in love, no matter how they try to stop it.”

“With Jaejoong?”

Yoochun-master snorted. “No.”

“Junsu? Yunho? Junsu’s brother, Junho?”

Yoochun-master smiled and shook his head. “They are my friends. I love them of course, but I am not in love with them.”

“I do not understand that difference.”

“I do not think you can understand the difference until you feel it. Love is complicated because of that. Love is based on the way you feel for different people and on the things you’re willing to do and sacrifice for each person.”

Changmin stared at him for a long time. “That makes sense. It really does.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, Changmin-ah.”

Changmin chuckled and shifted closer to his master. “But what you said does make sense because it separates the love I feel for my wife and children from the love I feel for my master. The way my chest tightens when you’re near me. The way my body aches when you aren’t near me. The way my thoughts drift to you throughout the day. That has to be love, doesn’t it?”

Yoochun-master sat up, his back to Changmin, and Changmin ran his fingers up and down his spine. He watched the sun brighten the pale skin.

The alarm suddenly blared from the side table, and Yoochun-master jumped and twisted to turn it off. Changmin kept his hand on his skin, but his hand had slid down his hip.

“Do you love me?” Changmin whispered.

Yoochun-master turned to look at him. Their eyes met and Changmin knew the answer to that question without his master saying anything. But it was a dangerous answer, so Yoochun-master deliberated. Back and forth. Say yes or no. But Yoochun-master had never lied to him and so Changmin did not need him to confirm or deny because he felt it when Yoochun-master touched him, looked at him, and kissed him.

Kissing. That sounded great.

Changmin sat up, hands moving up his body and he pulled Yoochun-master to his mouth, kissing and settling back into the bed, under the covers. They kissed through a second alarm, and then a third, and then through Yoochun-master’s phone ringing again and again.

“Let me be sick today,” Changmin said suddenly.

“Why?”

Changmin smiled. “So you can show me how much you love me.”

Yoochun-master cleared his throat and swallowed roughly. “I try to do that every single day, Changmin-ah.”

“You do a very good job.”

Yoochun-master cupped his cheek and ran his thumb under Changmin’s eyes. “I love you.”

Changmin smiled, quick and bright, to the point of surprised laughter and almost tears. His chest swelled, breath short and he nodded, leaned forward for a quick kiss, and arms and bodies wrapped up, rolled them over and Changmin mirrored the action, hand on Yoochun’s cheek, thumb under his eye. “So it does not matter what the definition is. It does not matter that what you feel for me is the same as I feel for you because it might be different. I don’t think it is, but I cannot be certain because you must be someone in order to know exactly what they are feeling. But you love me?”

“Of course.”

“And I do not understand the emotions yet, I don’t, but I do know that whatever this emotion is, whatever this feeling is, it makes me happy. You make me happy. You make me feel alive and content in the world of chaos. That has to mean something, right?”

Yoochun-master opened his mouth to reply, but Changmin kissed him, shut him up for a few long seconds and then pulled away, slow and careful. Gazes locked and with a smile, Changmin said, “I love you.”

Yoochun-master shut his eyes and yanked Changmin back to his mouth.

“Please. Let me be sick today,” Changmin said between kisses. “I do not want either of us to get out of this bed unless it is to go get in the bath.”

“What about if I want you to ride my cock on the couch or I want to fuck you over the dining room table?”

Changmin laughed. “Yeah, okay.” They kissed again until Yoochun-master’s phone rang again. Despite Changmin’s protest at being denied his mouth, Yoochun-master rolled over and found his phone on the floor. He smirked at the reading and answered it.

“Jaejoong-ah. Can you handle or reschedule Changmin’s meetings today? ... Well, he’s a little sick. ... He is not going to be allowed out of bed. ... Yes, allowed. As his personal assistant--” Changmin actually heard Jaejoong’s snort through the phone. “--I am making him stay in bed. No one wants to see the king when he’s snotty and ill. ... Well, you are not allowed to come and check.” Yoochun-master’s eyes danced with mischief, and Changmin suddenly wanted a taste of his master. He slid over the bed and started at Yoochun-master’s hip, mouth sliding over skin to the erection bobbing between Yoochun-master’s thighs. He moaned into the phone and then chuckled. “Definitely sick.” He hung up the phone and gripped Changmin’s hair, pulling him off his cock and back up to his mouth.

“You love me?” Yoochun-master asked.

Changmin nodded. “Let me show you how much.”

“Only if you let me show you how much I love you too.”

Changmin crawled up and straddled Yoochun-master’s hips. The blanket flung around them, turning their world gray again. “It may take me all day.”

“It’s a good thing you’re sick.”

Changmin laughed and nodded. “Definitely. But it’s also a very good thing that I am here, with you, because being a king, being a father, being a husband, those are only titles, only things that other people call me. But here, with you, this ...” He bit his lip and tried to find a way to say it. “This is where I belong. This is my place.”

Yoochun smiled. “Mine too. For as long as you will allow it.”

“Do not say that like I am suddenly going to toss you away.”

“People fall in and out of love all the time.”

“Do you see yourself not loving me in the next few years? The next ten years? The next twenty?”

“Of course not. I will always love you.”

“Then shut your mouth and put it to a better use.”

Yoochun smirked. “As you wish, Young Master.”


End file.
